Time in Seconds
by ncfan
Summary: Bleach drabbles. Characters, pairings and word counts will vary. See each chapter for more information. .: The Glasses Come Off: Intimidating things shouldn't involve a teenager taking his glasses off. :.
1. Unresponsive

**Characters**: Hitsugaya, Hinamori**  
Summary**: The heart monitor's beeping grows fainter and fainter.**  
Pairings**: HitsuHina**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Fake Karakura Town arc.**  
Timeline**: Post-Deicide arc**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report. Feedback would be appreciated, and I hope you guys enjoy the show, for however long it lasts.**  
Word Count**: 100**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

She's cold and unresponsive, marbled and solid as a block of ice. The fire's been put out.

A heart monitor beeps bleakly in the shadows of the room, its beats hard, few and far-between. A chasm of time opens between each sounding of the whistle.

The room is tomb-white, prematurely sepulchral, with a cold, arctic wind.

Hitsugaya leans down and rubs a small, soft, clammy hand. He murmurs his soft words, speaking of anything that's going on, faltering, repenting, asking, begging her to come back, if only so he can tell her he's sorry.

And, as ever, Hinamori doesn't respond.


	2. Letters to Home

**Characters**: Isshin, Ryuuken**  
Summary**: "She kept all your letters, you know."**  
Pairings**: past Ryuuken x Sayuri**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: None needed**  
Author's Note**: Sayuri is my name for Ishida Uryuu's mother. God knows it'll probably end up being non-canon at some point, and when that happens I will scream in frustration, but for now I'm going with this.**  
Word Count**: 200**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"She kept all your letters, you know."

Ryuuken, of course, says nothing, casting an irritatingly mask-like expression at Isshin, not so much as coughing slightly on the cigarette balanced between fingers.

Isshin just smiles slightly and goes on. "If I'm remembering right, the college had dragged you and the other members of the class somewhere north, and since you pretty much boarded up the apartment, I had to bunk with Sayuri. She wasn't too happy—"

"—_I _wasn't too happy."

"—but she let me stay with her." Isshin casts a pointed look at his friend, who's letting his gray hair shield his eyes. "She wouldn't let me read any of them. Threatened to shoot me in the foot if I tried."

A small smile appears on Ryuuken's face. "I see. And did you ever press your luck?"

"You don't see me walking with a limp, do you?" Isshin stares at him. "You could probably find them in storage if you looked."

"I assume you'll be getting to the point soon."

He shrugs. "Shoot, I was just wondering… Why didn't you write _me_ any letters?"

Ryuuken's eyes cloud slightly. "Because you weren't the one I wanted to talk to."


	3. Arachnophobia

**Characters**: Soi Fong, Yachiru**  
Summary**: Even the great and powerful Soi Fong is at times afraid.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: None**  
Author's Note**: I personally have nothing against spiders. But they are creepy little things.**  
Word Count**: 100**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Look what I've got!"

Soi Fong immediately regrets looking when Yachiru opens her small, pudgy hands.

Fat body like an hourglass, black and shiny. Long, creeping legs laced with hair that skitter and scramble, intent on freeing itself from the child's clutches. Fangs protruding from the head, and _God_, those eyes…

The thing almost looks _innocent _as it stares up at her with those glassy eyes, but Soi Fong knows it's plotting murder.

"Kusajishi, get that…_thing_ out of my face before I have to hurt you and kill it."

Yachiru's face falls, and Soi Fong walks away jerkily, still shuddering.


	4. Breathing Scenery

**Characters**: Ulquiorra, Orihime**  
Summary**: Humans eventually become scenery.**  
Pairings**: slight UlquiHime**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Hueco Mundo arc**  
Timeline**: Hueco Mundo arc**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report. Reviews are always appreciated, though.**  
Word Count**: 100**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

When he takes a look at her and squints, she seems…different. In many ways.

Faded like an old painting, the paint starting to weaken from age.

Cracked like antique pottery, a clay vase fired millennia ago and now starting to split at seams. The clay has grown delicate from its great age and won't stand up against stress.

A thing handled too roughly, treated with no consideration, will eventually break under the attentions of a possessive, dominating master.

The long-imprisoned react the same, under invasive watch.

Orihime's becoming a piece of the scenery.

Ulquiorra supposes she's been confined too long.


	5. Midnight Escapes

**Characters**: Nemu, Ishida**  
Summary**: Tonight, one of the prisoners under her care will disappear.**  
Pairings**: onesided Ishida x Nemu**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: AU, AR**  
Timeline**: None needed**  
Author's Note**: As I have said above, this is wildly AU and AR (alternate reality). Please keep in mind that you were forewarned.**  
Word Count**: 400**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"You must be quiet."

The dark-haired boy nods as, with some difficulty he crawls up from the tiny iron-wrought door to the cell. The doors are small to make escape more difficult—not that anyone ever escapes Nemu's father's dungeons anyway.

Not until now, that is.

She doesn't even know his name, as he stands (The night is deep enough that the other prisoners—the ones that can wake and sound the alarm, anyway—are lost in restless sleep, deaf to what is going on around them). He dusts himself off, strangely prim, carrying himself as though his ribs ache, and Nemu's sure they do. She's seen what goes on to make his ribs ache.

The boy has committed no crime, but he is of a tribe that long ago fell out of favor with the crown, declared outlaws, hunted unto the ends of the earth, and as a result no one raises protest when the boy, who has been foolish enough to get caught by Nemu's father, who always loves having a new captive, is led down, half-conscious, to the cells.

With the flick of a white hand, Nemu leads him on through narrow corridors wet under their feet—it has rained recently and the windows have no coverings.

It's a bit of a novelty for a prisoner to treat her with respect. It's a novelty for _anyone_ to treat her with respect.

_It's because he has committed no crime_, she keeps telling herself. _That, and nothing more._

When the morning comes and her father finds the cell empty, Nemu will tell him that the prisoner there died during the night, and that she disposed of his body on the trash heap. Her father will never look to confirm.

The narrow wooden door Nemu presses open is a servant's staircase, and will lead from the fortress into the forest.

Firmly, she meets his eyes, returning to him his weapons, a bow and quiver of arrows, and a silver pendant of a cross, an odd relic. "Follow this stairwell, exactly. You will escape that way."

He nods, silent, and peers at her in the darkness with weak, deep blue eyes.

That reminds Nemu. "Here," she half-whispers, drawing the object wrapped in linen from a pocket. "This is yours."

His glasses.

Whatever Nemu expects to happen, won't.

The boy bows his head in acknowledgement. "Thank you," he whispers, and is gone.


	6. Those Things That Are Worth It

**Characters**: Yachiru, Yumichika**  
Summary**: Yumichika's got lullaby duty. Again.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: None needed**  
Author's Note**: This had to happen some time.**  
Word Count**: 200**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

The thick, solid weight bearing down on his stomach is the only thing that wakes Yumichika up, and from a perfectly pleasant dream at that.

Whatever's going on, it had better be good.

Yumichika lifts his head and his nose collides with a much smaller one. Pinkish-magenta eyes are wide open and strangely subdued in the darkness.

"Kusajishi-fukutaicho?"

Her lower lip trembles, illuminated by the moon seeping through the window. "I had a nightmare."

Yumichika squeezes his eyes shut and tight. "So what do you want me to do about it?"

"Sing me a lullaby?" Yachiru's voice shakes, her small fingers clutching at the material of Yumichika's shirt.

"What?" he groans. "Why me? Why not Ikkaku or Zaraki-taicho?"

Yachiru's frown seems more like a pout. "Baldy won't ever sing for me. And when Ken-chan sings, he sounds like he's hurting. You're better."

Even disturbed little girl-children, Yumichika supposes, have to have preferences.

"Alright," he concedes. "Alright," he groans. "I'll sing you a lullaby." No one likes to see Yachiru cry.

"Great!" Yachiru snuggles under the sheets next to Yumichika, inserting herself firmly under the crook of his arm, and Yumichika decides it's probably worth it, even if it is annoying.


	7. Poker Night in Seireitei

**Characters**: Kira, Shuuhei, Renji, Nanao, Ikkaku**  
Summary**: Kira has no poker face.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: None needed**  
Author's Note**: This makes me giggle.**  
Word Count**: 100**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

The setting is pretty stereotypical, they all concede: a round card table with only a yellowing overhead light for illumination. But they all love it and it sets the scene and mood for Friday night poker night.

They all like their poker, the five of them. Shuuhei's probably the best at it; everybody, from Kira and Renji to Nanao and Ikkaku, have gotten a bit tired of playing against him, but they all do, in the hopes that they might win.

The mood is set.

Then, Kira grins evilly.

And the others all take one look at him and fold.


	8. Off Limits

**Characters**: Kira, Shuuhei, Rangiku, Gin**  
Summary**: It's bad when the best-looking woman they've ever seen is taken by a guy like _him._**  
Pairings**: onesided ShuuRan, onesided KiraRan, GinRan**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: AU, AR**  
Timeline**: None**  
Author's Note**: Again, this is AU and AR. Hope you enjoy.**  
Word Count**: 200**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Now _there's _a looker."

Kira looks at the woman Shuuhei's pointing out in the bar, and has to agree. She's sitting at a table near the back—it's midday and the bar is nearly empty, only has about half a dozen patrons—and she's alone, but alert as if waiting for someone. She has long golden hair and crystalline blue eyes, staring out the window intently. The cup of sake sits drained in her elegant hand.

Shuuhei drinks mainly to lose his inhibitions, of which there are many (Kira can sympathize), so, under the influence of alcohol, it's not at all uncharacteristic of him as he winks at Kira. "I think now is the time to make my move."

This has to give Kira pause. "Not if I get there first."

"Okay." Shuuhei smirks and raises the mug in his hands. "I've got an idea. Whoever can drain their mug of beer first gets to go talk to her."

That's when a hand descends upon their shoulders.

"Sorry boys, she be taken." The cheerful voice grows ominous. "And married."

"What the hell does she see in _him?"_

Kira only tilts his head, understanding. So _that's_ who she was waiting for.


	9. Revolutionary Experience

**Characters**: Ishida, Orihime**  
Summary**: He's not used to this.**  
Pairings**: IshiHime**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: None needed**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report.**  
Word Count**: 100**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Ishida Uryuu is not used to being hugged. Orihime either doesn't realize this or just doesn't care; it could be either one.

He can count on one hand the number of times Ryuuken ever hugged him throughout childhood, that he can remember, and his grandfather never felt the need to, unless it was to comfort him. Neither of them were terribly touchy-feely people, and no one else was ever in the position to try.

She's doing it _again._

Ishida's not used to being hugged.

But he likes to think he could get used to it, if he tried hard enough.


	10. Pale Girl in the Shop

**Characters**: Byakuya, Hisana**  
Summary**: There's a pale girl working in the shop.**  
Pairings**: ByaHisa**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Soul Society arc**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Just a look into Byakuya and Hisana's relationship, pre-marriage.**  
Word Count**: 100**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

There's a pale girl who now works in a shop in the first district. She's conscientious of her work, diligent and steady, a rock in the river.

She speaks in half-whispers and downcast glances, looking down she should look up. Whether she's shy or overwhelmed, no one can discern. The shop is almost-daily honored by the patronage of the Kuchiki clan.

His relatives, almost without exception, don't approve. They tell him she's unworthy, beneath his attentions.

Byakuya doesn't care. He's in love, young enough to be rash, and tonight, he will again speak to the pale girl in the shop.


	11. No Answers in the Truth

**Characters**: Rukia, Hisana**  
Summary**: What is she supposed to think?**  
Pairings**: ByaHisa**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Soul Society arc**  
Timeline**: Just past Soul Society arc**  
Author's Note**: It's a pity that no attention was ever paid to Rukia's reaction to the revelation that Hisana was her sister.**  
Word Count**: 200**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

_Sister… I have a sister?_

It's hard to know what to think about that. This is news to her, something that got hit over her head in a desperate moment, a piece of knowledge divulged only because the one telling her was under the impression that he was going to die presently.

What is Rukia supposed to think?

The reed curls in her hand as she twists it, thinking, and frowning.

What the hell is she supposed to think?

Was Hisana a loving sister, or a guardian who failed in her duty?

Even knowing the truth, Rukia can't separate her sister, the reality of her sister, from the image she has had of Byakuya's long-dead wife. She still sees a distant, lovely noblewoman, one whom she was brought in to replace. Hisana-sama, the last mistress of the house.

It was absolutely bizarre for Rukia, to learn why she was adopted, and now, she can't tell whether it's touching or startling the lengths Byakuya went to to carry out his wife's last request.

It's a relief to know that she's not really a replacement, that that's not why Byakuya wanted her, but…

Just what on earth is she supposed to think?


	12. It Could Have Happened That Way

**Characters**: Hisana, Rukia**  
Summary**: She still sees how it might have played out.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Soul Society arc**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: I do tend to write my characters as having a penchant for self-abuse, don't I?**  
Word Count**: 100**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

In her mind, Hisana rehearses over and over again, seeing how it might play out.

Rukia might scream at her. If she's inherited their mother's temper, she'll certainly scream and be angry.

There might be tears and hugs, but Hisana doubts it. She's never really believed in happy endings.

Or Rukia might just not believe her. It would be perfectly understandable, all things considered.

It could have turned out any one of those ways, or none of the above.

And the tears, the detested, hated tears, come on hot and slow as Hisana remembers that it will never happen now.


	13. Rage Against the Creator

**Characters**: Aizen**  
Summary**: What does Aizen have against God?  
**Pairings**: None**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: None**  
Author's Note**: I had to write something mocking Aizen's mental breakdown in the Deicide arc. I just _had _to.**  
Word Count**: 200**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

What Aizen has against God, no one is sure. No one knows what the universe ever did to him, or if it did anything at all. Knowing Aizen and his talent for finding justification for literally _everything_ he does, he probably has a reason no one can understand or credit. That would be just like him.

For whatever reason, Aizen has decided that changes need to be introduced. All fine and well, but couldn't he have gone through legal channels? Yes, the bureaucracy makes a mess of red tape out of everything, but it would have been worth it in the end, and he wouldn't have tried to stage a coup to get what he wanted.

But, no. Aizen has allowed his delusions of grandeur to get the better of him. He thinks he can _be_ God now, the defining fatal mistake of virtually everyone who has ever believed they could take over the world they live on.

Aizen has allowed his delusions to force him to devolve from a reasonably intelligent captain to a gibbering wreck. Rage against the Creator tends to turn otherwise sensible people batty.

Such is the fate of those who thought they could be God.


	14. Living Reminder

**Characters**: Ryuuken, Uryuu**  
Summary**: The similarities are so glaring that nothing else is noticed.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: None needed**  
Author's Note**: Everything about their dynamic as a family is so messed up.**  
Word Count**: 100**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

When he counts all the ways Uryuu is painfully like her, it's hard to see anything else.

Wide blue eyes full of stubborn idealism, and Ryuuken can't see anything past that to see how Uryuu's eyes are growing harder as hers never were, glazed and brittle. Selective blindness has always been a specialty of Ryuuken's, but after a while, if one keeps closing their eyes, they just can't open them again.

Headstrong, inquisitive, with virtually no sense of personal danger.

It's like Sayuri's come back from the grave to plague him.

Uryuu's too much like her for his own good.


	15. And Sometimes It's Worse

**Characters**: Hitsugaya, Rukia**  
Summary**: Why did it always have to be him?**  
Pairings**: slight HitsuRuki if you squint**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Vague spoilers for the Arrancar arc**  
Timeline**: Directly prior Rukia, Hitsugaya, Rangiku, Ikkaku, Renji and Yumichika's entry into the Arrancar arc.**  
Author's Note**: Let me make this clear: I don't normally accept requests, not anymore. They get to be a real hassle if you're not careful. This time, however, I already had an idea for a (sort of) lightly HitsuRuki drabble; it helps that I am neutral to the pairing.**  
Word Count**: 200**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Hitsugaya's infuriated turquoise eyes settle on Rukia's face, not bothering to get up from the boulder he's sitting on. He points his thumb in the general direction of all the exhilarated screaming. "Are they always this bad?" He's beginning to regret having accepted this assignment.

Rukia, standing with her hands tucked behind her back, narrows her eyes, peering into the dust cloud a few dozen yards from them, where Renji, Ikkaku and Yumichika seem to be in the process of a three-way brawl. She's well-acquainted with Renji's Eleventh Division buddies.

Far from saying anything to reassure Hitsugaya, Rukia only shrugs offhandedly. "Sometimes they're worse."

Hitsugaya groans miserably and hides his careworn face in his hands. "Oh, God. Don't tell me that."

He can see it now. _Headaches and interdimensional incidents for all. I am absolutely _doomed.

Rukia smiles sweetly and pats his shoulder mock-sympathetically. The smugness radiating off of her is so thick that she could be mistaken for a cat with cream on its whiskers. "I have full confidence in your ability to control them, Hitsugaya-taicho." Clearly, she's very happy that, for once, she _won't _have to be the one to curb Renji's craziness.

"Oh, thanks _so _much, Kuchiki."


	16. Not All Fun and Games

**Characters**: Hinamori, Nanao**  
Summary**: Nanao gives Hinamori some advice.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Nanao seems to be the sort of person that _everybody_ would go to for advice.**  
Word Count**: 300**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Well, that's very good to hear, and I'm not surprised, but are you sure you want to take the position, Hinamori-san?"

Hinamori frowns in confusion as Nanao continues putting books back up on the shelves in her office, having to stand on tiptoe to reach one of the higher shelves. All the books go in alphabetical order, absolutely no exceptions, ever.

"I don't quite understand what you mean, Ise-san." A faint tinge of red enters the younger girl's cheeks, as Hinamori feels a prick of hurt. "This is a good thing, isn't it?"

Nanao shrugs and looks at her, blue-violet eyes wise and sage. "You should consider it very flattering that Aizen-taicho has asked you to become his lieutenant. But while being a lieutenant brings with it benefits, it can be very tiring. The job is rewarding but will rob you of sleep at night."

Hinamori stares blankly at her for a moment, not quite seeing where Nanao is going with this, before raucous shouting is heard out in the hall.

Several books drop to the floor in a heap, dust flying up from their pages.

"Oh, good grief." Nanao shakes her head, smooth brow drawing up in worry. She barely manages to cast a glance at Hinamori before flying out the door. "Excuse me, Hinamori-san."

Her shouting is desperate as it floats from the hall. "Okay, I'm coming! I'll be right there!"

Curious, Hinamori follows Nanao.

Two men are standing under a portico, and Nanao walks over to them with a much more professional, "Okay, where's the fire?"

One of the men immediately starts gibbering; the only intelligible words out of his mouth are "Thank God you're here, fukutaicho." Nothing else can be even remotely understood.

Nanao turns around and stares knowingly at Hinamori. "See what I go through."


	17. Red Light at Dawn

**Characters**: Ryuuken, Uryuu**  
Summary**: He comes back just before dawn.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report. Feedback would be appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 300**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

The sun is starting to break over the horizon, but hasn't quite slipped over the surface yet. The light, what little light there is, is ruddy and rusty like watered down blood.

Where Ryuuken stands, he can see out but no one can see him standing in the window. He's been there all night, standing silent vigil, irritation and anger and other emotions that he can't or won't identify rising in his throat.

It's the same old song, every time, when he tries to close his eyes but can't. Misery and remembrance.

Finally, in the red light, his son appears down the street, feet crunching against the dead leaves. His slight shoulders are bowed and Ryuuken can't tell if the patches on his white shirt are blood or the dull red light of dawn.

He watches, intently, as Uryuu comes closer, and all he can think is: _It'll be a month before he's thirteen._

How many nights has he done this, without saying a word, behaving as though it never happened afterwards?

Other times, he ignores it, but this time, he meets Uryuu at the door. Much to his son's horror. The absolutely terrified expression on the boy's face, white and strained skin, makes Ryuuken think that it should say something that his son fears him more than he does the Hollows he sneaks out to kill.

"What is it," he asks bitterly, "about teenagers that makes them think that, when they stay out all night, that their parents won't notice when they never come home?"

Blue eyes are huge behind glasses lenses and Uryuu opens his mouth, but Ryuuken cuts him off, grabbing his arm and ignoring a sharp yelp of protest and pain, dragging him over the threshold of the front door.

"Don't answer that. Just get in."


	18. Instant Argument Killer

**Characters**: Lisa, Shinji, Hiyori**  
Summary**: Lisa breaks up an argument.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: If you're familiar with my wacko theories (or not so wacko in this case), then you know who I've referred to who isn't named. Even if you're not familiar with my theories, you'll probably be able to guess.**  
Word Count**: 200**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

On the first of the many occasions that the Vizard go their separate ways, Shinji, Hiyori and Lisa travel as a group. One evening, while the sun is falling over the sea in trails of maroon and deep blue, Shinji and Hiyori get into an argument.

Their fighting is hardly atypical of them; the inner Hollows they are now cursed with has made them more aggressive (And Hiyori certainly didn't need anything to make her more aggressive). Lisa just sits on the edge of a cliff, legs dangling off, trying her best to ignore them.

Hiyori and Shinji can't even remember what they were arguing about later; it all seems so stupid in the wake of what was revealed that night.

Finally, Lisa can't ignore them anymore, and she breaks into the conversation with five words, never so much as looking at them.

"I left my daughter behind."

It has the intended effect. Shinji and Hiyori both cringe and shut up, chastened and shocked. They sit down beside her, and don't say another word until the sun rises again.

Lisa refuses to look at them until the next morning, and then, she won't acknowledge that she said anything at all.


	19. Wrong Time of Year

**Characters**: Rangiku, Hitsugaya**  
Summary**: This is _not_ the time of year for something like this to be happening.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: None needed**  
Author's Note**: Obviously, we're disregarding the fact that Hitsugaya could have easily rectified the situation himself. The problem with being really young is that judgment isn't always all that good.**  
Word Count**: 100**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Rangiku is fanning herself with an old silk paper fan smelling of perfume, sweat running down her forehead, making her hair stick to her cheeks as the sweat pools in her uniform.

From his desk, Hitsugaya sighs irritably and drums his fingers on the smooth wood. All the paperwork's been finished and stacked neatly,—what else is there to do?—and the windows have been thrown wide open.

Why did it have to be summer when this happened?

Finally, Hitsugaya screams, exasperated, desperate and to no one in particular,

"When the hell is someone going to fix the air conditioner?"


	20. Almost Painless

**Characters**: Byakuya, Rukia, Hisana (mentioned)**  
Summary**: Rukia gets the flu.**  
Pairings**: ByaHisa**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: This was an old idea for a oneshot I had that never really bore fruit. It works out much better as a drabble.**  
Word Count**: 200**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Rukia sneezes again, pale cheeks unusually flushed as she sits up on her tatami mat and accepts the handkerchief Byakuya hands out to her. "Thank you, niisama." It stays clenched in her small fingers afterwards; she knows Byakuya won't want it back.

She doesn't look at him as she murmurs, "The doctor says it's the flu. I should recover sufficiently to return to the Thirteenth Division in a week."

Byakuya nods. That is reasonable, he supposes, and it is almost certainly the full extent of what is wrong, but his stomach still twists in knots as he watches Rukia cough, her small body shaking with painful tremors.

The girl pulls some of the blankets up around her shoulders, and Byakuya wonders if this is something Rukia does regularly when cold. He doesn't know her well enough to be able to recognize her habits and quirks.

He purposely distances himself from her, and considers it an accomplishment that he can watch her cough and sneeze with only a modicum of pain. He only has to close his eyes a little bit not to feel fear.

But why, _why_ does she have to resemble her sister even more strongly when she's sick?


	21. Hair Doesn't Match the Eyebrows

**Characters**: Juushiro, Shunsui**  
Summary**: Ukitake explains his hair to Shunsui.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga; while Shunsui and Ukitake are in the Academy**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report.**  
Word Count**: 200**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Thin, fine strands of short white hair blow in the breeze as Juushiro stands with his back pressed against the oak tree, and Shunsui slumps against the trunk, nestled in the giant gnarled roots. The orange and golden autumn leaves flicker past like so many flocks of birds flying south for the winter.

Shunsui shoots a pointed look at his friend's white hair, hands resting comfortably on his knees. "You never told me where you came by the white hair, Juushiro." This is a point of contention with them.

Juushiro's sleepy, pleasant smile never breaks. They've only known each other for three days, but he doesn't take offense to the invasive question. "Is it really all that startling, Shunsui?"

"Yes. Especially considering you've got black eyebrows."

Juushiro shrugs and yawns softly, fanning his mouth with one hand. "I got sick." He behaves as though it is perfectly normal for people to get sick enough to turn their hair color.

His friend is left with a raised eyebrow. "Sick enough to turn your hair white?" Shunsui asks skeptically.

Juushiro shrugs again, still treating it as insignificant. "It happens a lot."

Shunsui leans back into the trunk of the tree, and frowns.


	22. Outdated Model

**Characters**: Nemu, Mayuri**  
Summary**: One day, she won't be important anymore.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: It's sad, but knowing Mayuri, this will end up happening one day.**  
Word Count**: 100**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

One day, maybe soon and maybe not, he won't need her anymore. Mayuri will develop another vessel that will render Nemu obsolete and useless.

She will be pushed back into the dark, ineffective and outmoded, a dated, archaic relic. Again, she will be a nameless drone, meaningless and purposeless.

No one will notice. No one will ask. They'll assume that she is holed up in the laboratories, and over time, she will simply be forgotten.

One day, Nemu will be of no more importance to Mayuri.

And when that day comes, Nemu will what little reason she has for living.


	23. The Danger of Being a Cheap Drunk

**Characters**: Ryuuken, Isshin**  
Summary**: Isshin is a bad influence who enjoys getting young college students drunk.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: The thought of Ryuuken being a cheap drunk was too amusing to pass up.**  
Word Count**: 300**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"You really can't hold your liquor, can you?"

That voice really isn't the one Ryuuken wants to hear when he has a splitting headache and finds himself lying on his couch with no idea of how he got there.

Bright sunlight (definitely not early morning light) is pouring through the window in his apartment living room, and Ryuuken reaches up to shield his eyes as he sits up, groaning. The source of his irritation is sitting at the kitchen table, having apparently taken the liberty of raiding his fridge.

"What time is it?" Ryuuken groans, glaring blearily at him.

"Ten in the morning," Isshin informs him nonchalantly, munching on cold, leftover chicken. "You've been out of it for twelve hours, buddy."

The pain is a hangover, and Isshin is a walking tumor. Ryuuken scowls, letting his aching head fall across the roof of the couch. "I hate you so much."

"What? _Why_?" The fact that Isshin actually sounds genuinely indignant makes Ryuuken want to laugh.

"Because this is your fault," he snaps flatly. And it is. It's always Isshin's fault, no matter what happens. The Shinigami delights in seeing him suffer, he's sure.

"Hey!" Isshin jumps to defend himself. "I just supplied. It's not my fault you're a cheap drunk! God Almighty, I've never known anyone to pass out after three—"

At that point, Ryuuken loses his temper. The textbook hitting Isshin's mouth effectively cuts him off. Even hung-over, Ryuuken still possesses exceptionally good aim, and the _thump_ of Isshin falling over in the chair, and him and chair hitting the floor is very satisfying.

Ryuuken proceeds to fall back on the couch, groaning. He takes his glasses off and puts a hand over his eyes to block out the light.

He's never drinking again. Especially not with Isshin.


	24. They're All Asleep Again

**Characters**: Ryuuken, Sayuri, Uryuu**  
Summary**: All he can do is sleep.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: I can see them in this situation.**  
Word Count**: 259**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Exhaustion is so great that he can barely get his glasses and his shoes off before collapsing into bed, pulling the sheets up sluggishly.

When Ryuuken comes home, the lights are off, so he doesn't turn them back on, knowing that Sayuri and Uryuu are asleep and knowing, from experience, that neither of them will appreciate having the lights turned back on. Being woken up abruptly is about the only thing that can make Uryuu cry.

Sayuri, despite being a light sleeper, doesn't so much as stir slightly when the box springs squeak. Ryuuken takes a quick look at her, squinting in the darkness, before leaning over and kissing her briefly, praying it won't wake her up but almost half-hoping it will. It doesn't; she's fast asleep, just as exhausted as he feels.

When he steps into the room just down from their bedroom Uryuu, surprisingly, doesn't wake up when the door creaks open; he's as much a light sleeper as his mother. He's instead sleeping soundly and deeply, dreaming whatever babies dream, as his father reaches down and gently touches his head. It would, admittedly, be nice, if blue eyes opened, but they don't.

Ryuuken sighs quietly. He'd hoped he might catch them awake this time.

Work will start in six hours and Ryuuken can taste futility on the roof of his mouth again, like cheap sake out of one of those bars Isshin loves so much. It's been five days since he last saw his wife or infant son awake and all he can do is sleep.


	25. The Light Wraps You

**Characters**: Ulquiorra**  
Summary**: The light spills around him, and all he sees is darkness.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: None needed**  
Author's Note**: Character study in one hundred words. Gotta love it. The title is a reference to a Pablo Neruda poem of the same name.**  
Word Count**: 100**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

He is a swirl of blackness and shadows, a deep darkness locked in crude flesh and bone. When flesh is released, the ash comes, sifting away from his fingertips and leaking like words from his mouth.

Ulquiorra aspires towards…towards…_something_, something he has never known and will never know. He reaches towards it like a drowning man, like a curious child, knowing that he is incomplete without it, but helpless since he doesn't know what he's reaching for.

Life is pointless if he doesn't know what he's looking for.

The light spills all around him, and all he sees is darkness.


	26. Speechless

**Characters**: Ishida, Orihime**  
Summary**: He can't think of anything to say when he's near her.**  
Pairings**: IshiHime**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: None needed**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report. Feedback would be vastly appreciated, though it is not required.**  
Word Count**: 100**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

He's never been terribly talkative. Actually, Ishida has spent most of his life actively avoiding the company of others, wary and uncomfortable and at times downright _miserable_ being around other people.

He's never really wanted to talk to anyone else.

Until now, that is.

And the most galling thing is, when he wants to talk to her, he's left speechless. He can't think of a thing to say, words failing him utterly, his lack of social experience finally catching up to him.

All he can do is smile like an idiot, and wish beyond words that he could speak afterwards.


	27. Mistress of Illusion

**Characters**: Aizen, Kyouka Suigetsu**  
Summary**: Aizen and Kyouka Suigetsu come to an agreement.**  
Pairings**: Aizen x Kyouka Suigetsu**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: This contains speculation as to the nature of Kyouka Suigetsu. Oh, I feel I should go ahead and warn you in advance: I've never watched the anime, so I know about the filler arcs from the wikia, but I don't _know_ about the filler arcs, if you catch my meaning.**  
Word Count**: 400**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

When he finally sees her for the first time, she seems insubstantial, somehow. She is a feminine figure, humanoid, neither diminutive nor towering though very slender. She is wrapped and shrouded in sheer gray silk, covering her face entirely. No inch of skin is left even remotely visible, and he can only detect even the faintest outline of her facial features.

"So you finally heeded my call." Her voice is a whisper, barely audible to Aizen's ears, and he approaches her with caution, sensing the power hidden beneath her shroud.

"Yes. I heard you, and I have come." It is better, he knows, to be humble. She is the one with all the power, fickle and capricious. Arrogance will serve Aizen nothing in connecting with his Kyouka Suigetsu.

She nods slightly, hands shifting beneath cloth wrappings. "And you desire my power?" There is no trace of inflection in her voice, not the slightest emotion. All remains of feeling are eradicated from the surface of her being.

"Yes." Aizen slips slightly. "You are my zanpakuto."

"And you are _mine_." An audible hint of steel enters her being, and Aizen senses, stronger this time, the power she conceals. "Do understand that. If it is my power you desire, you will come to terms with me."

Aizen senses that there may be danger in this, but does not care. He wants power. He _needs_ power. "I will do…" he pauses, searching for words "…whatever you ask."

"Good." She raises hands that are ghostly, sickly pale and sheathed with thick, gleaming torques of twisted silver, and lifts the veil shrouding her face.

Long black hair, thick, straight and unmarked, frames her pale face. Where Kyouka Suigetsu's eyes should be, there are only shallow indentations, smooth skin in place of irises. She clasps his face in her hands, her skin cool and slightly damp.

"If you forsake me, I shall surely forsake you. You must be loyal to me, and me only. Do you understand?" Her voice is all iron now, stern and cold and intoxicating in its sheer power, and Aizen is drawn in.

He comprehends the risk involved in subjugating himself to this spirit, but sees no other option. Kyouka Suigetsu has power, power he needs, desperately. His hunger can only be slaked by this.

Aizen understands, fully.

And so does she.

"I understand. As I said, I shall do whatever you ask."


	28. An Affront

**Characters**: Nnoitra, Neliel**  
Summary**: She disturbs him.**  
Pairings**: onesided NnoiNel**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Hueco Mundo arc**  
Timeline**: Pre- Hueco Mundo arc**  
Author's Note**: Nnoitra gets on my nerves but I love this pairing.**  
Word Count**: 100**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Nnoitra snarls, picking himself up off the floor as she walks away, blasé and nonchalant and utterly uncaring. Blood drips from him, flowing free. What he wouldn't give to see some emotion on her face, just once, just to know that he's disturbed her.

The woman is perverse and abominable, alluring and utterly maddening. She is an affront to everything Nnoitra believes, her very existence disturbing and sickening and sickeningly disarming.

He wants to see her shocked.

He wants to see her angered.

He wants to see, just once, that Neliel will look at him and acknowledges that he exists.


	29. Half in Shadow

**Characters**: Nnoitra, Szayel-Apporo**  
Summary**: Szayel's the answer to all of Nnoitra's problems.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Hueco Mundo arc**  
Timeline**: Pre-Hueco Mundo arc**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report.**  
Word Count**: 100**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"I understand you are having some trouble with our esteemed Neliel-sama." Nnoitra turns at the sound of that cool, silky voice, and sees where he was hiding.

As ever, Szayel-Apporo stands half in shadow, seeming to melt into blackness from about the knees down. One arm is wrapped around his waist, the other braced to push glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Nnoitra doesn't approach. Szayel may have been pushed out of the Espada, but he's still a snake and he's not to be taken lightly.

"Yeah… And you can help me with that?"

Szayel smiles silkily and laughs.


	30. Blood Under Hands

**Characters**: Rangiku, Gin**  
Summary**: She can't give him up.**  
Pairings**: GinRan**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Deicide arc**  
Timeline**: Post-Deicide arc**  
Author's Note**: Feedback would be appreciated (A salve to my bruised ego, if you will).**  
Word Count**: 100**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

When she dreams, he's still with her. He's being enigmatic, as usual, but that's what Rangiku's come to expect from Gin, and she can accept it, if only to be with him for just a little while longer.

He doesn't say a thing, doesn't need to, and Rangiku smiles, leaning into him and forgetting what's real.

It's such a pleasant dream.

Then, Rangiku wakes up, and the memory of his blood under her and on her hands is so fresh it might still be there.

She falls back in bed, holding back tears.

She can't give him up. She can't.


	31. Haircut

**Characters**: Shinji, Lisa**  
Summary**: Lisa gives Shinji a haircut.**  
Pairings**: slight Shinji x Lisa**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Timeline**: Post-Turn Back the Pendulum arc; pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: I have to wonder: At what point did Shinji cut his hair, and why did he cut it?**  
Word Count**: 200**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"You're going to need a haircut, you know."

Shinji glares at Lisa, who's reading through a lexicon, just trying to touch up on her English. "We've been through this before. Hell no, Lisa." He's not going to apologize for being proud of his hair.

Lisa's still sitting on one of the beds in the hotel room they're sharing, and she doesn't even look up when she talks, though jade eyes seem to sear Shinji all the same. "Shinji, where we're going, men do _not_ wear their hair even half as long as yours. You'll stick out like a sore thumb. I don't want my cover blown just because you wear your hair longer than most women do."

"So what are we supposed to do about it?" Shinji challenges her. "I sure didn't see a barber anywhere nearby."

Lisa smiles at this, and pulls a pair of scissors out of a pocket. "Oh, I'm sure we'll make do."

In the Twenties, the cut is a little weird, but accepted all the same. In the Fifties, it's considered stylish—on women. And in the Sixties, with the Hippie movement, Shinji glares at Lisa, who won't let him grow his hair back out.


	32. Eidetic Memory

**Characters**: Nanao, Lisa**  
Summary**: Nanao remembers Lisa perfectly, and wishes she couldn't.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Timeline**: Post-Turn Back the Pendulum arc; pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Some _more_ Nanao-Lisa angst.**  
Word Count**: 200**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Nanao remembers everything. She has what is often called photographic memory, but she prefers to refer to as eidetic memory. Everything is remembered in precise, exact detail, filed away neatly to be pulled back up at her convenience, which, given her career, is often.

So she can remember Lisa perfectly.

She can remember her, tall, pale woman, with smooth skin and deep black hair and cool jade eyes partially hidden behind thick glasses. She remembers how Lisa never liked to wear anything that concealed her legs—she said she liked to show them off.

She can remember how Lisa was calm and professional and always seemed to have everything under control. Nanao emulates this style as best she can, but her controlling influence always seems to stop short at bring Kyouraku-taicho to heel.

She can remember everything about Lisa, the way she looked, the way she dressed, the way she sounded (_unruffled, gravelly voice, compelling and mesmerizing_), the way she smelled, with that strange, foreign perfume that smelled strangely of cinnamon.

She can remember how kind Lisa always was to her, even when she didn't outwardly seem to be.

Nanao can remember everything about Lisa.

And she wishes she couldn't.


	33. In Hindsight, the Mediator is Dead

**Characters**: Ryuuken, Uryuu, Soken**  
Summary**: Everything got worse after Soken died.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: None needed**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report. As I said before, their family dynamic is twisted and broken**.  
Word Count**: 200**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

It's still painful for Ryuuken to think about, that while Soken may have been wrong, he hadn't necessarily been right, either. He realizes this afterwards and will never own up to it; it's always been nearly impossible for Ryuuken to admit to mistakes he may have made. Ryuuken can't even be sure of everything the two of them may both have been wrong about; by the time Soken died, there was very little they saw eye to eye on anymore, as Ryuuken allowed the resentments of his childhood to cloud his adulthood judgment.

But what's even harder to admit is that he was certainly wrong about the sort of influence his father was having on Uryuu. Ryuuken has no proof, except that he knows that everything got worse after Soken died.

With no one left to soften Uryuu's opinions towards his father, everything fell apart and ignited. Resentment blossomed into fully grown bitterness, as they, always estranged, finally fell apart entirely.

Why does hindsight always have to hurt so much?

It's hard, but Ryuuken realizes now that he should have given the old man more credit.

Now, Ryuuken wishes his father was still alive, but for all the wrong reasons.


	34. Selective Blindness

**Characters**: Ryuuken, Uryuu**  
Summary**: In order to close your eyes to one thing, you must by necessity blind yourself to everything else as well.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: None needed**  
Author's Note**: Another character study, except this time it's in two hundred words.**  
Word Count**: 200**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Walking around with blinders on the eyes is an art form, and few can bring it to perfection. Ryuuken's had decades to practice, and has perfected the discipline.

To all of his son's disbelieving glances, he has but one answer: _Don't look. It's much easier not to see._

And so he does. A hospital is, by necessity, full of the lingering spirits of the dead, but Ryuuken can go without seeing them. He's long since learned how to see only the living.

That was always the problem with the Quincy. They were living but insisted on involving themselves in the affairs of the dead, and that's how they ended up dead, too. But Ryuuken is still living, he tells himself, and the concerns of the living are far more pressing than those of the dead.

He doesn't know why he has to tell himself he's still alive, instead of just feeling his heart for a pulse.

And when Uryuu stares at him with an expression Ryuuken can't decipher, Ryuuken can't understand what he's seeing anymore, and wonders if that makes his son a dead man, or if he's just forgotten how to see his son in those dark blue eyes.


	35. Let All the Dreams Burn

**Characters**: Rukia, Kaien, Miyako**  
Summary**: In summer, Rukia lets some dreams burn.**  
Pairings**: onesided KaienRuki, Kaien x Miyako**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Soul Society arc**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: I firmly support the belief that Rukia was in love with Kaien.**  
Word Count**: 100**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Rukia lets some dreams burn one fine summer's day. It's all hopeless, she decides, and knows that she must wear a mask over her feelings now. To be a Kuchiki, she must always wear a mask, and this will be excellent practice.

Others notice the change that comes over her, but never comment. Kiyone and Sentarou don't understand—Rukia suspects those two drunkards don't understand much of anything—and Ukitake does, but only smiles sadly and pats her shoulder.

Rukia lets some dreams burn.

And she lets them burn the day she finds out that Shiba Kaien has a wife.


	36. Suspicious Whistling

**Characters**: Nanao, Shunsui, Ukitake**  
Summary**: It's never good when they start to whistle.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: This is pure crack. Behold and speculate, and list your theories aloud.**  
Word Count**: 300**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

She meets them at the door, shopping bag in hand, automatically sensing that something is extremely wrong with the whole situation. Nanao's shopping trip with Rangiku was productive, but now she's completely forgotten the pleasure gleaned out of that when she sees the evasive expressions on both Shunsui and Ukitake's faces. Shunsui is sweating slightly, pupils dilated; Ukitake is smiling much too widely as he stares down at Nanao.

Her eyes narrow and immediately snap to her captain's face. "What happened, Kyouraku-taicho?" When Nanao suspects they've done something, she knows from experience that it's better to be blunt and cut to the quick.

Shunsui's expression is positively scandalized. "Why, Nanao-chan! Why on earth do you always think something happened?"

"What am I supposed to think, when you make that sort of face?" Nanao turns to Ukitake, slightly more respectful this time. "Ukitake-taicho?"

He smiles pleasantly, the muscle action plainly forced. "Absolutely nothing of note happened here this afternoon, Ise-san. Now, if you will excuse us…" He nods gravely to Nanao, who returns the gesture, before grabbing Shunsui by the arm and departing swiftly.

Nanao doesn't turn around to watch them go, but she does frown. One of them is whistling.

Wait… They're _both _whistling.

Nanao sighs audibly, closing her eyes and screwing her face up as if in physical pain. It's _never_ good when they start to whistle, never.

She stares in dread at the closed door to the Eighth division headquarters, hand trembling as it reaches for the knob. She really doesn't want to see what's waiting for her behind the mahogany door.

Nanao licks her lips nervously. It's now or never.

For a moment, there is silence.

Then…

"Augh! What did you two _do_?"

Shunsui and Ukitake have, of course, long since vacated the scene of the crime.


	37. The Dog Will Always Love You

**Characters**: Shuuhei, Gorou (Komamura's dog)**  
Summary**: In which Komamura's dog sneaks into the Ninth division while Shuuhei is doing paperwork.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Soul Society arc**  
Timeline**: Post-Soul Society arc**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report.**  
Word Count**: 200**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Shuuhei sighs in aggravation as the paperwork seems to literally pile up before his eyes, stacks upon stacks of paper. He never knew how awful the paperwork could be before Tousen-taicho left; despite being blind, Tousen somehow always managed to do it all himself, and always claimed he didn't want to push the workload onto Shuuhei.

If Tousen-taicho had been at all considerate, he would have taken the paperwork with him when he left.

Shuuhei stares out the window, before he feels something cold and wet against his hand, and he jumps, startled.

"What the—"

He quickly spots the source of the cold, wet something. A dog has somehow gotten into his office. It's a brown mutt, with Labrador ears and tail but not much else, wagging its tail vigorously and staring up at Shuuhei expectantly with big brown eyes.

It's Komamura-taicho's dog; he can see that from the collar. God only knows it got loose; Komamura spends a lot of time with his pet and keeps a close eye on it.

Shuuhei frowns. He…likes dogs.

Shuuhei absently scratches the dog on the head and lets it rest its head on his leg while he continues doing the paperwork.


	38. Green Eyed Monster

**Characters**: Soi Fong, Yoruichi, Urahara**  
Summary**: Soi Fong's eyes deceive her in envy.**  
Pairings**: KisuYoru**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga, post-Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Author's Note**: While I will never be a fan of slash, I do think that Soi Fong has a thing for Yoruichi that was never requited, though I think Yoruichi probably knows about it.**  
Word Count**: 200**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Soi Fong watches them jealously, her blood boiling and at the same time draining out of her cheeks, envy twisting her mouth into an ugly line as they walk arm in arm, laughing, never aware that they're being watched.

_All too easy_, she decides, shaking in anger and disgust.

That man… That revolting man… Somehow he has wormed his way into Yoruichi-sama's confidences, despite his blatant dereliction of duty. Somehow, he is more important in Yoruichi-sama's life than she is, despite the fact that she, Soi Fong, has dedicated her life to Yoruichi, has risked her life in Yoruichi's service and will always stand by her side, unwavering in her loyalty, while this man is shamelessly fickle in his loyalties.

They lean close in conspiracy, whispering intimately. The woman giggles, and the man kisses her gently.

And Soi Fong shakes her head, and realizes that the two she watched with fierce envy departed more than twenty years ago, and have not been seen since.

Still, the sharp whisper remains, dark and ugly and almost frightening in its intensity:

_See two lovers, who should never have met. Don't you want to kill him, so you can have her all to yourself?_


	39. Once Yearly at Sundown

**Characters**: Byakuya, Soi Fong**  
Summary**: They never say anything, and nothing need be said.**  
Pairings**: Reference to ByaHisa**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga, post-Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Author's Note**: I can't help but think that remembrance of Yoruichi would bring these two together, if only briefly.**  
Word Count**: 200**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Once yearly at sundown they meet, away from all the buildings, from all the people and all the noise. They never say anything; both are reticent by nature and, besides, nothing ever needs be said. What is there to say? They both know what happened, both know what it did to them and the other, and they don't need to reaffirm it with inadequate words.

Instead, Byakuya and Soi Fong, one tall and the other slight and diminutive, stand where a grave would have, should have been, while the light shines red all around them, and say nothing.

There is a bite in the air, Soi Fong always notices, though Byakuya, for whatever reason, does not. Neither comments.

They commiserate silently on their loss, remembering that one, two, five, ten, twenty, fifty years ago on this day, they lost the violently shining light in their lives.

When the light starts to fade, Byakuya bows his head in respect, Soi Fong does the same, and they go their separate ways, never speaking of the long watches.

Byakuya stops coming after he gains a new light, and Soi Fong is left to stand vigil alone.

She almost prefers it this way. Almost.


	40. Comfort to Exiles

**Characters**: Yoruichi, Kisuke**  
Summary**: Exile isn't half as bad if you've been exiled with the right person.**  
Pairings**: KisuYoru**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Vague spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report.**  
Word Count**: 200**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Yoruichi mills languidly around the bowl with a porcelain spoon, frowning pensively into the smooth white and blue patterned depths of the ceramic bowl. Small, sticky white rice grains cling to the smooth curves of the bowl, the remnants of her supper. Paltry fare after what she was used to in Seireitei.

Some, no, many, say that exile is a fate worse than death, and Yoruichi can see where they might get that idea. It's sheer hell to know that you can never go home again, never see friends or family or the familiar places. It's torture to lie awake at night and wonder about all you've left behind, and Yoruichi can see why many exiles chose to take their own life rather than face a life alone.

A hand descends lightly on her shoulder. "It's good to see you again, Yoruichi-san. I was beginning to wonder when you'd come back." Kisuke had seemed happy to see her again.

Yoruichi grins roguishly up at Kisuke, who wears his normal gentle expression, while swinging her legs childishly. "Got anymore?"

But Yoruichi doesn't despair. Because she knows that exile isn't all that bad if you've been exiled with the right person.

"Plenty."


	41. There's No Substitute for Crazy

**Characters**: Yumichika, Ikkaku, Yachiru**  
Summary**: There's no substitute for crazy.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report. Feedback would be really appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 200**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Ikkaku groans, holding a an ice bag up to his bleeding head while Yumichika clucks and goes for the painkillers in his medicine cabinet and Yachiru giggles, sitting on top of Yumichika's dresser and swinging her legs energetically. "Baldy got hurt bad!" she comments unnecessarily.

Ikkaku's sitting on the edge of Yumichika's bed, and he glares fiercely at the little girl. "Shut the hell up."

"I'm going to tell Ken-chan!" Yachiru shrieks immediately, face puckering.

Yumichika feels the need to intervene at this point. "I don't think that will be necessary, Kusajishi-fukutaicho. Ikkaku is sorry he told you to shut up." Lavender eyes stare pointedly at the injured Third Seat. "Aren't you, Ikkaku?"

"Like hell I am."

Yachiru's lower lip trembles, and Yumichika's lip curls back. "Yes, you _are_, Ikkaku."

He scowls. "Fine." Addressing Yachiru, he grudgingly states, "Sorry, Kusajishi-fukutaicho."

"That's alright, Baldy."

Getting back to the matter at hand, Yumichika taps out two Tylenol and hands them to Ikkaku. "Ikkaku, perhaps next time you should let Zaraki-taicho handle the really big Hollows," he comments sagely. Ikkaku rolls his eyes. "He is best at that sort of thing, after all."

"Why should I?"

"Because you'll live longer if you do."


	42. You're NOT Her Brother

**Characters**: Isshin, Masaki, Ryuuken**  
Summary**: Isshin and Masaki meet, and Ryuuken feels the need to distribute some friendly threats.**  
Pairings**: Isshin x Masaki**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report.**  
Word Count**: 300**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Who's the girl and does your girlfriend know about her?"

Ryuuken scowls at Isshin but obliges him. "She is a friend of mine's and Sayuri's; I've known her since middle school."

The pretty girl with light brown hair smiles sweetly up at Isshin, murmuring hello.

Taking this as a cue, Ryuuken looks from the girl to Isshin and doles out introduction. "Kurosaki, this is Kobayashi Masaki. Masaki, this is Kurosaki Isshin. He's—" Ryuuken pauses to screw his eyes shut and sigh painfully "—my roommate, and my burden to bear."

Masaki laughs a little at this. "Sayuri told me about you. You sound very…interesting."

Isshin grins. "Well thanks. I can't understand why Ishida never told me about you." He turns his gaze to Ryuuken. "Where the hell did you hide her?"

Ryuuken glares at him again.

.

Later, back at Ryuuken's apartment, Isshin finds himself on the receiving end of words that could probably get Ryuuken arrested if Isshin even remotely took him seriously.

"Listen. Touch her and I kill you." Ryuuken is chopping carrots on the chopping block and for some reason the strokes are hitting especially hard against the wood. He refuses to look at Isshin, his voice strangely even and blank, coolly precise.

"What? Why are you concerned? You've already got a girlfriend and if this is going in the same direction as your "talk" with me about Sayuri, I doubt you're going to say anything I haven't heard before."

"I repeat myself: Touch her and I kill you. I don't trust you around women."

"What are you, her brother or something?"

"Okay, I take that back." Ryuuken points the kitchen knife at Isshin ominously. "Touch her and I castrate you; I know how. Is that better?"

Isshin stares at him for a moment. "…That's… new."


	43. Adventures at Woodstock

**Characters**: Shinji, Love, Rose**  
Summary**: Shinji, Love and Rose go to Woodstock.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: August 15, 1969; Pre-manga, post-Turn Back The Pendulum arc**  
Author's Note**: **capslock-nanao** gave me this absolutely evil idea, so I dedicate the chapter to her.**  
Dedication**: dedicated to **capslock-nanao**.**  
Word Count**: 100**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

The place is heavily crowded, a throng of swaying bodies, and Rose looks around and frowns slightly, a little pale.

"I'm not sure about this," he mutters to Love, who shrugs noncommittally.

"Are you kidding?" Shinji flounces past, cackling. "This place is great!"

Love tips his head up and frowns. Shinji's hair is getting longer again, just past the shoulders. "Dude, Lisa's gonna kill you if she finds out you're growing your hair out again!"

Shinji doesn't answer, running off and whooping.

"He's high, isn't he?" Love is peering after him.

"Definitely. The only question is, what's he high _on_?"


	44. A Failure to Communicate

**Characters**: Ryuuken, Uryuu**  
Summary**: A few things are cleared up.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: None needed**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report.**  
Word Count**: 100**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"I never really understood what you were trying to ask of me," Ryuuken admitted. No more shouting.

Uryuu's eyes narrowed hesitantly. "I…" He bit his lip. "…I… I only ever wanted…I only really ever wanted love out of you." He was staring at the ground now. "I never understood why that was too much to ask for."

Ryuuken stared at him for a moment, and nodded gingerly. "Ah… Is there…anything else?"

Uryuu looked up, and tilted his head so his bangs partially covered his eyes. "Why is it still too much to ask for?"

Ryuuken could only stare at him.


	45. The Wedding Crashers

**Characters**: Byakuya, Hisana, Shunsui**  
Summary**: Byakuya and Hisana's wedding gets gate-crashed.**  
Pairings**: ByaHisa**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Can't you picture this happening? I referenced it in _Start to Finish, and Back Again._**  
Word Count**: 200**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Where did all these people come from?" Byakuya finally explodes, losing his temper entirely and glaring at the uninvited guests who are crowding around them and the chapel.

Hisana's reaction is about the opposite, smiling serenely on the crowd and latching her hand onto her fiancé's arm. "This is wonderful."

"They weren't invited."

"It's still very sweet of them to show their support. I have to wonder, though, how did they find out?"

At this point, Shunsui, completely and totally off his mind from sake, steps up from the crowd to congratulate them, and Byakuya has his culprit. He glares daggers at Shunsui, who doesn't seem to care.

"Am I to take it, Kyouraku-taicho, that you are responsible for this?"

Shunsui sways on his feet, just barely held up by a pale and absolutely infuriated Nanao. "Why aren't you happier? 'S your wedding day! The more the merrier, right?"

Nanao shoots a mortified look at Byakuya. "I apologize for my captain's behavior profusely, Kuchiki-fukutaicho."

Byakuya groans, and Hisana pats his arm sympathetically, her smile especially sweet. Gray eyes then sweep the crowd.

"Hisana, I think we're going to have to change the venue. The chapel won't fit all these people."


	46. Different Definitions

**Characters**: Ichigo, Rukia, Ishida**  
Summary**: Ishida and Rukia can't get their stories straight.**  
Pairings**: IshiRuki, reference to IchiHime**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: Post-Current Events**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report.**  
Word Count**: 272**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Where were you two last night?"

The looks that come over Rukia and Ishida's faces send warning bells clanging like crazy in Ichigo's mind. Rukia starts focusing her wide violet eyes on the gray sky and Ishida chooses to stare intently at the sidewalk, ramming his hands into his coat pockets. Neither of them will look at him or each other.

"What. The. Hell?"

They're still focusing their attention on anywhere but Ichigo or each other, but a slow red flush is rising steadily in Ishida's cheeks.

"What the hell is going on?" Ichigo demands, gaping belligerently at them both.

Ishida opens his mouth but Rukia cuts him off, staring at Ichigo with an unnaturally even expression. "After six months of you and Inoue, and the two of us commiserating and getting to know each other better, what on earth did you expect?"

Ichigo nods slowly; he's taking this far better than either of them expected. "I see… Good for you—" this is addressed to Ishida, who glowers blackly at him "—and how long has this been going on?"

"Two months."

"A week."

Finally Ishida and Rukia look at each other, and the latter glares; Ishida just shrugs.

"Uh-huh… And you were planning on saying something… _when_, exactly?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business."

"Soon."

Rukia scowls again.

"Do you two need a minute to get your stories straight?" Ichigo asks sarcastically.

Rukia grabs Ishida's arm and smiles tightly. "No, no need. Ishida and I just seem to have different definitions of the word 'relationship'."

"Can I plead the Fifth?"

"That only works if you're an American."


	47. And Sometimes I Dream

**Characters**: Nel (Little Nel), Nnoitra**  
Summary**: Nel's distant dreams.**  
Pairings**: NnoiNel**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Hueco Mundo arc**  
Timeline**: Pre-Hueco Mundo arc**  
Author's Note**: This requires a huge suspension of disbelief as well as an acceptance of the belief that Nel may have, for whatever reason, been faking forgetting things when she reverted to her child form.**  
Word Count**: 200**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Sometimes, Nel dreams, her tiny body battered by cold night wind and scraping sand.

She dreams and remembers, remembering in a hazy sort of way, not fluid, not coherent, not linear.

In the dreams, she is big. Big and tall, with the cold steel of a sword singing its song to her, songs of high and lonely places, and proud, so proud. She is tall and strong, her back as straight as the blade of her sword, and solemn and dutiful.

She lives under an artificial sky, radiating false sunlight and too bright for eyes so much more used to night's cool darkness.

And there is with her one younger. He is like steel too, but that steel is molten and he is a creature of volatile, capricious desire. Violence is all he knows, and he wants her—all of her, in every sense, in ever essence.

He makes her angry.

He makes her sad.

Nel wakes up, with hazel eyes flying open but no jump. The fire crackles still, and her brothers do not stir.

Nel falls back and stares up at the glazed connect-the-dots of twinkling stars, small chest heaving, small voice uttering a single, weary word.

"Nnoitra."


	48. Knocking, Rattling, Shaking

**Title**: Knocking, Rattling, Shaking**  
Characters**: Orihime, Ulquiorra**  
Summary**: _I am not afraid_, she tells herself.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Angst, Suspense**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Hueco Mundo arc**  
Timeline**: Hueco Mundo arc**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report.**  
Word Count**: 100**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

The knock on her door is familiar, so familiar, all too familiar.

Orihime stands immediately, stiff-backed and rigid and brittle as a dying pine tree, fists clenching and fingernails biting viciously into her skin, so hard that every time she expects to draw black jewel-drops of blood.

The sand blows at her feet, and she screws her eyes shut. Her stomach ties itself into Gordian knots and undoes itself again, repeating the process within seconds. She feels nauseous; blood roars in her ears.

_I am not afraid_, she tells herself. _I am not afraid._

Just as she always tells herself.


	49. Koi Pond Reflections

**Title**: Koi Pond Reflections**  
Characters**: Isane**  
Summary**: Isane looks at her face.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Angst**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: I have the theory that Isane and Kiyone died together but got separated after death.**  
Word Count**: 275**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Isane likes to wander through Unohana-taicho's garden on the Fourth Division grounds in her spare time, especially when no one else is there; she's thankful that Unohana allows open access to her gardens.

The day is so darkly overcast that the sky seems almost black with only faint gray highlights, rumbling with thunder and grimly ominous. The smell of rain is predominant in the windless air, drowning out the overripe perfume of dying flowers.

She sits on the low white-washed brick wall of a koi pond, propped on one knee, tracing a long-fingered hand through the surface of the water lying as smooth as the unblemished glass of a mirror. Occasionally when out here, Isane will catch sight of the elusive flash of scales, scarlet, gold or milky, but today the large, gape-mouthed koi have fled to wherever they shelter in inclement weather.

Isane knows she ought to be doing the same, but some impulse stops her.

The image of herself staring back at her from the water is entrancing; Isane doesn't spend much time in front of a mirror and every time she sees her face it's a bit of a shock. She's growing to much resemble her mother, though her mother's hair was never silver like hers.

Isane still doesn't know where Kiyone is. It will be interesting, if they ever meet again, to see which parent her half-sister took after, to see if Kiyone resembles their father or her mother.

The first raindrop makes a ripple on the surface of the water. Then another.

By the time she goes running for the shelter of the indoors, the rain is pouring without mercy.


	50. Doing in the Doctor

**Title**: Doing in the Doctor**  
Characters**: Mayuri, OC**  
Summary**: Mayuri finds out what someone utterly insignificant thinks of him.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Really vague spoiler for Soul Society arc; references to sexual abuse**  
Timeline**: Post-Soul Society arc**  
Author's Note**: I hate Mayuri but writing about him can be intensely enjoyable if I do it right. He's absolutely shameless, so I get to channel my frustrations through him.**  
Word Count**: 468**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Mayuri sits down in the armchair, flipping through the notebook he's wanted to get his hands on for so long.

**Kurotsuchi Mayuri, Captain of the Twelfth Division**

**Initial observations: Patient is unstable and volatile, prone to violent mood swings.**

Mayuri raises an eyebrow and growls. _The incompetent slut…_ Still, he has to read on; fascination, both professional and intensely personal, compels him.

**The patient is incapable of controlling his violent impulses, of which there are many.**

_Violent impulses? I have not a clue of what she's talking about._

**When caught in the grips of anger, the patient is known to throw things and become physically violent towards anyone who crosses his path.**

_It was one time, one time! I threw a book at you because you dared to suggest that I feel inadequate—abandoned, even!—and I didn't even hit you._

**The patient also shows a callous disregard for life unsuitable for someone of his position. He is willing to sacrifice his men at random and shows no trace of regret or remorse for their deaths.**

_We've been through this—I have explained it, time and again. The. Bombs. Are. __**Not**__. Supposed to come back. They simply aren't; it's horribly inconvenient and dangerous. In my situation, of course you would detonate a malfunctioning explosive, especially if it was trying to return to base!_

**The patient also suffers from extreme sexual frustration, possibly due to impotence or past injury. His inappropriate and abusive behavior towards his daughter is perhaps indicative of this, or of a hatred towards women in general. In this area, at least, I am certain that repressed feelings of inadequacy play no small role in his improper behavior.**

_Oh, ho. This is just rich. I guess it really is your job to read into everything; I have to control Nemu somehow, you dim-witted woman. The girl would run amok without a leash!_

**In short, the patient shows himself to be utterly unsuited to the administrative position he finds himself in. It would be best, for the safety of society at large, if—**

At this point, Mayuri has to stop reading; it is simply too offensive for words. He keeps the spiral-bound notebook, of course, tucking it into his shihakusho; if this is what she said about him, he can't wait to see what she wrote about Soi Fong and Ichimaru.

Standing, Mayuri sniffs at the copper-smelling heap in the shadows. Deep black fluid still seeps away, and he rolls his eyes.

_She really was such an awful psychiatrist. I've done this world a favor._

He leaves through the front door, stomping out in a glower, the smell of blood reeking from his haori.

Mayuri doesn't bother covering his tracks; no one's going to arrest him for this. If anything, they should be throwing him a parade.


	51. Turning the Other Cheek

**Title**: Turning the Other Cheek**  
Characters**: Hanatarou, Isane**  
Summary**: Hanatarou explains his philosophy to Isane over band-aids and Q-tips.**  
Pairings**: light Hanatarou x Isane**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Friendship, Romance**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: None needed; it's in the winter time**  
Author's Note**: Hanatarou is so sweet. Isane may be OOC here; let me know what you think, alright?**  
Word Count**: 411**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Why does this keep happening to you?" Isane fusses, going to find some salve for the many open cuts on Hanatarou's face, and Hanatarou blushes and shrugs noncommittally, not wanting to say.

"I don't know," he admits lamely, not wanting to admit that he doesn't know why he can't always go unnoticed—why his attempts to make himself as small as possible simply don't always work. Hanatarou can name any number of reasons why others would pick on him—he's small and skinny and has the sort of face big, burly men want to punch.

Of course, he's not sure what is it about his face that makes other people want to punch it, but he's not about to argue with reality, even if it's unpleasant and physically painful.

It's better to just duck and run. And, naturally, considering they were in a group tonight, he wasn't able to duck or run.

Isane comes back with the salve and a band-aid, dabbing on the thick, gluey mixture with a cotton swab. "I don't understand why you couldn't just fight them off. You're a seated officer; it's not like you're a pushover."

"I believe in turning the other cheek," Hanatarou explains staunchly, with false bravado. He flinches as the salve, thoroughly infused with disinfectant, stings against his many cuts.

Isane raises an eyebrow. "Literally?" she asks, half-teasing, half-speculative, and Hanatarou's blush is much deeper this time.

"…Sometimes…"

"I can see that. In fact, tonight, it looks like you turned the other cheek to someone with a hand full of rings. Or were they just wearing brass knuckles?"

"Well, I don't know. It was dark."

Isane smiles slightly. "Sure." She is unnaturally light-hearted tonight. "So chivalrous." She sighs theatrically.

With care, Isane places the band-aids on Hanatarou's cuts, and he's left to stare out the window. It's dark, but he can see several shards of white pierce the sky.

"Look…" he murmurs, strangely listless. "It's snowing."

Isane cranes her neck around, biting her lip. "So it is. An early winter." Her gray eyes are glazed for a moment, before she forces herself to turn back to Hanatarou, smiling. "I think you're free to go, Yamada-kun; there's not much more that can be done here."

Hanatarou stands and bows. "Thank you, Kotetsu-fukutaicho."

"Sure. Try not to get beat up again; we're running through salve quicker than latex gloves thanks to your "accidents"."

Hanatarou finds a reason to blush for the third time that night.


	52. Wasn't Covered

**Title**: Wasn't Covered**  
Characters**: Ryuuken, Uryuu**  
Summary**: You never knew how to say what you meant when it mattered.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Family, Angst**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: I know the summary was originally on the cover of _night terrors, _but it really fits a lot better here, so I changed it.**  
Word Count**: 260**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Father, why do you hate being a Quincy so much?"

Ryuuken narrows his eyes, and his son doesn't look to his eyes six years old anymore, but older with a weary nervousness that doesn't sit well on his shoulders.

There are several things, actually.

"Killing Hollows" doesn't translate to a way to stay alive. It guarantees only death in the end. It doesn't translate to a way to keep a roof over one's head or keeping from going hungry.

Life is short enough without deliberately shortening it by tempting fate with a bow and arrow. Uryuu doesn't understand now, but he will, soon enough. He'll come to understand, most likely the hard way, the way that promises pain.

Being a Quincy doesn't translate to living long enough to see your children—or in Ryuuken's case, child—grow old enough to care for themselves. It doesn't translate to being able to hold a job or feed your children or yourself or keep the ones you care about from dying.

It doesn't translate to being able to care for the ones who still need you, to be able to keep them safe and relatively whole.

Ryuuken almost says that, but doesn't, can't quite frame the words. It's too much, too little, too far gone, too late. Blue eyes stare tremulously at him, almost bolting, before he finally manages to say something that doesn't even begin to cover his actual answer.

"Because you can't make a living off of it."

Uryuu doesn't understand, and Ryuuken can't blame him.

He really doesn't understand either.


	53. Rained In

**Title**: Rained In**  
Characters**: Ishida, Orihime**  
Summary**: It should have not have been raining, but neither of them were complaining.**  
Pairings**: IshiHime**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Romance**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: None needed**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report; just a spur-of-the-moment little thing.**  
Word Count**: 167**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Well, this is inconvenient." Rain does have a marked tendency to put a wrench in any plans that don't involve rain. Today in Spring it comes in quicksilver sheets over the awning, like a glittering curtain or an iridescent shroud.

Orihime frowns, standing just to where she can't get wet, cant get rainwater splattered across her shirt or pants. "It was sunny just an hour ago. You'd think there would have been some warning, at least."

Thunder rolls softly, and Ishida sighs. "Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure I heard thunder while we were in the library. I thought it was just the air conditioning unit flipping on. The sound's about the same."

A car rolls on by, lamps watery gold, sending waves of water to lap hungrily at their feet. Orihime smiles slightly as she glances up at him. "Well, I guess we're going to have to stay right here."

Somewhat nervously, Ishida, manages a small smile and replies, "Yes… I suppose we will."


	54. No More Stars

**Title**: No More Stars**  
Characters**: Mila-Rose, Harribel, Apache, Sun-Sun**  
Summary**: It's a bad omen.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Hueco Mundo and Fake Karakura Town arcs**  
Timeline**: Just before the Fake Karakura Town arc**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report.**  
Word Count**: 263**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"There's no stars." It's Mila-Rose who mentions it, managing to mostly hide her apprehension, but still a slight quavering note comes into her deep, strong voice. Apache snorts, muttering something mutinous under her breath; Sun-Sun and Harribel are silent.

Harribel and Mila-Rose are standing, silhouetted against the eternal night sky of Hueco Mundo, but Sun-Sun and Apache are both sitting, the latter's legs tented at the knee. It's common for them to venture to the top of the dome of Las Noches when it gets too troublesome or too confined inside.

"I can't remember the last time there weren't any stars," Mila-Rose mentions again, smooth dark brow furrowing. Her pale green eyes scan the sky as if she thinks she can spy out stars with just her limited eyesight. Harribel shakes her head.

"Do not trouble yourself with it, Mila-Rose. The sandstorms put a shroud over everything, as you are quite aware." It was how Harribel and Mila-Rose had first met, when the latter took shelter in Harribel's cave during a sandstorm.

But they all know it's a bad omen. Apache is instantly tense, Sun-Sun's rose pink eyes flicking to her mistress.

Reluctantly, she nods, and the Espada, with one graceful hand, starts to usher her Fracción back inside.

"We should all rest now, and rest well. We leave for the human world tomorrow, and it will be better if we are not fatigued or troubled on the eve of battle."

Sun-Sun's rattling voice intrudes. "It is not a good omen, Harribel-sama."

"We shall make our own luck. Now, all of you, inside."


	55. Copycat in Reverse

**Title**: Copycat in Reverse**  
Characters**: Nanao, Lisa**  
Summary**: Nanao's not like Lisa.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Angst**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: As you've probably gathered, what I write about in here is indicative of what I'm comfortable writing about in the Bleach fandom. So, here again, is another Nanao-Lisa drabble. There will be more in future. Many more, hopefully.**  
Word Count**: 402**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

For obvious reason, nearly everyone who meets Nanao who knew Lisa assume she emulates the woman in personality and appearance and work ethics, knowing how extraordinarily close the two were, linked at the hip and rarely out of each other's company on a day to day basis.

And, yes, Nanao imitates Lisa's work ethics. Lisa always had common sense about these things, had a good sense of how to make things work in the Eighth division. If something's not broken, why try to fix it? Nanao sees no practicality in trying to work out her own managerial and administrative style if there's a perfectly good mould to work with.

But that's the only way Nanao actively imitates Lisa, though no one else (not even Shunsui, who proclaims to know his lieutenant better than anyone else—which is a falsehood; Rangiku knows Nanao best) can ever or really ever takes the time to see it.

Personality isn't something that can be consciously altered; if Nanao at times acts like Lisa, she can't help it—it's unconscious. And she doesn't always behave like Lisa, she maintains. She does or doesn't resort to violence in situations where Lisa would have made the opposite choice. She's quieter, less outgoing, more introverted, more reserved. She doesn't smile as often as Lisa did, who didn't smile all that often herself.

Nanao also can't help that she, for whatever reason, bears a strong physical resemblance to Lisa. So many of her problems with Kyouraku-taicho, the smothering, the over-protectiveness on his part, come from the fact that she's a living shadow of one who is either dead or gone. She has no desire to leave this undesirable resemblance pronounced.

Anything she can do to minimize how much she looks like Lisa, she does. It hurts, it stings, it feels like disrespect to try to obliterate the memory of the woman from the division, but Nanao does it anyway and is thankful that her eyes are a different color and her face is more softly shaped than Lisa's ever was. Knot her hair behind her head, wear round glasses instead of oval, wear her shihakusho loose and concealing over small curves and pale skin.

Nanao knows it's not going to get better until she's extinguished the shadow of her predecessor from Seireitei and people stop looking at her and have to do double-takes to remind themselves that they're not seeing Lisa.


	56. On Golden Afternoons

**Title**: On Golden Afternoons**  
Characters**: Nanao, Lisa (in spirit)**  
Summary**: It's still not her office. /_Lisa's still in the room._/**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Angst**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Vague spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Like I said, more Nanao-Lisa.**  
Word Count**: 166**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

She scratches out characters onto yellowing parchment and crisp white paper, the two lives of paperwork, one old and crumbling, one young and firm. This is Nanao's typical afternoon, the light making everything seem so butter yellow and surreal, hazy coronae around the wood furniture in her office and the wall hangings that somehow do not make the office space seem any less austere.

Nanao looks up, and bites her lip.

Words seep out of the wall, written with a larger, bolder hand than hers. A worldly-wise, slightly hoarse voice rises up from years long past if Nanao's not careful and can't keep the memories at bay. The words, exactly in their syllables, have long since been forgotten, but they can still be heard in golden afternoons.

Nanao looks down, and can see scuff marks on the edge of the desk where someone would prop their feet up on the desk when not working.

Her predecessor's still in the room.

And it's still not Nanao's office.


	57. Answers on a Long Hiatus

**Title**: Answers on a Long Hiatus**  
Characters**: Lisa, Nanao**  
Summary**: These issues should have been addressed a very long time ago.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Drama, Angst**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc and Fake Karakura Town arc**  
Timeline**: Post-Deicide arc; post chapter 422**  
Author's Note**: I'm on a Nanao-Lisa angst kick; this should be the last one in succession unless I get any more inspiration. And you never know, I might.**  
Word Count**: 632**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

For once in her life, Lisa isn't trying to assert herself or put in a good word for herself as Nanao's silence is more unbearable than words could ever be. The winter's devoid of snow so far but still cold; Lisa would rather be anywhere but in Seireitei and pulls the deep gray-green yukata she's been given and the haori over it closer over her still raw and tender flesh to block out the cold. It doesn't quite work, and Lisa narrows her eyes.

They've found some privacy on the Eighth division grounds, in a far-off, secluded garden; Lisa's surprised Shunsui's given them any peace at all. People who see her and Nanao together do double-takes and stare, and the one time Shunsui sees them together, he blinks, hard, and makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat, lost for words.

To say that Nanao is not amused with her captain's reaction to her and Lisa is an understatement, and Lisa wonders if Nanao has any sense of humor at all.

Is the resemblance really all that pronounced?

Lisa peers at the younger woman and sees that, yes, it is quite pronounced, despite Nanao's conscious attempts to diminish the similarity between them.

Lisa stares around at the barren hydrangea bushes around them and remembers, sadly, how much Nanao loved these showy flowers as a child. The dead and molding petals still litter the ground beneath their feet.

"You seem tense." They're sitting on a low wall and Lisa takes a sip of the heated tea they've brought out with them, secured in an insulated canteen. She wouldn't say anything at all, but she's so desperate to break the silence falling between them and putting them on distant islands so far out at see. She needs something else to do, besides drink in Nanao's appearance and think forlornly about how much has changed.

Nanao shrugs, a gesture she despised as a child but is adopting now, and reaches for her own canteen, set down on the wall. "I suppose."

The older woman tilts her head, jade eyes trying to peer past the present lieutenant's skin. "May I ask why?"

Nanao's mouth twists, the words garbled but very clear. "Because…" She sighs and shakes her head. "Because of you."

Lisa is careful to be silent.

"I have lived in your shadow for over a hundred years—and no matter how hard I try, I can't get out of it. I'm still living in your shadow." Nanao tugs at the badge on her arm for emphasis. She steadily starts to lose her composure as she goes on. "No one has ever been able to look at me without thinking of you; I can't be me, I always have to measure up to what you would have been." Nanao's breathing gets ragged, years of hurt, abandonment, pouring into her words. "I have absolutely no identity independent of you."

Birds fly away in the distance, their cries desolate and forlorn as they are disturbed from their roosting place, and Lisa can find no words to say.

This should have been addressed so long ago.

Lisa tries to look at Nanao's upset, pink-tinged face from every angle, wondering about words.

What can she say? What words will make this right? Lisa wonders how to frame the words, and settle for the truth.

"There's something…something we need to talk about." All the energy is gone, so weary, so old. "I…don't know how to say this, but I know it should have been said a long time ago." Lisa stares around; from years of hiding and running, she is naturally nervous in the open as she never was as the lieutenant of the Eighth division. "Can we go somewhere more private to talk? I'd feel more comfortable there."


	58. Hare Dream

**Title**: Hare Dreams**  
Characters**: Kenpachi, Yachiru**  
Summary**: He'll have to remember that in future.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Friendship, Family**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: This is before Kenpachi got his title, so I'm just calling him Zaraki in this one.**  
Word Count**: 224**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Zaraki stokes the fire and keeps his ears pricked for any sign of incoming opponents or robbers, people who would like to find quick riches and don't care if the bodies they get them off of are still warm.

The summer night is mercifully quite mild and dry; the only use for the fire is Zaraki's desire to see and be able to be forewarned, even if his radius of sight is small and limited. It's nice to have prior warning.

The tiny girl with pink hair shifts at his side, asleep. Yachiru—for that's what he's named her, after the only person he ever respected—is lost in dreams, apparently not unpleasant since she doesn't whimper or cry out. Instead, her unformed little face is slackened and relaxed.

Very pleasant dreams, indeed.

She'll eat almost anything, Zaraki's noticed. The hare he was roasting over the fire was nearly blackened by the time he realized he'd left it on too long, but Yachiru devoured it with gusto. Perhaps it's scorched hare meat that's giving her such good dreams. He'll have to remember that in future; for some reason he can't understand, Zaraki hates seeing her cry after nightmares.

Zaraki shoots one last glance at Yachiru, before scanning the undergrowth and, finding it empty, lying down to sleep.

It's just the two of them, tonight.


	59. Happy Drunk

**Title**: Happy Drunk**  
Characters**: Shuuhei, Nanao, Shunsui**  
Summary**: "He's an alcoholic". "I can see that".**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: Pre-Soul Society arc**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report at this interval.**  
Word Count**: 152**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Shuuhei gapes as he watches the progress of Kyouraku-taicho's antics through the Eighth division grounds. He can pick up hints of the man's booming voice even from the roof he shelters on, though he can't hear any of what he's saying. Some of Kyouraku-taicho's Shinigami laugh; others flee.

And there's one who's absent.

"He's an alcoholic." Shuuhei hears the weary explanation from just behind, and turns to see Nanao standing there, arms tucked behind her back (defensive posture) and face weary and exasperated.

The lieutenant of the Ninth division nods slowly, comprehending and seeing why Nanao is so exasperated; Tousen-taicho _never_ behaves like this. "I can…see that." He gestures to down below, where the ruckus is still rising. "And what do you do about it?"

Nanao comes to stand beside him, and gazes, face unreadable, down at her captain. Finally, very quietly, she says, "I thank God that he's a happy drunk."


	60. Be Quiet on the Stairs

**Title**: Be Quiet on the Stairs**  
Characters**: Kira, Gin**  
Summary**: Prison breaks are Gin's specialty.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Friendship, Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: Pre-Soul Society arc**  
Author's Note**: This seems like something Gin would do—shake up the Fourth division a little bit.**  
Word Count**: 260**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Pack it up." Kira's awoken in his hospital bed to the sound of a familiar voice. A figure is silhouetted in the doorway to the dark hall.

"Ichimaru-taicho?" It's unmistakably him. Kira props himself up and squints, confused. "What are you doing here?"

Gin steps into the room. "I've come to bust you out," he jokes, "but seriously, get dressed." He starts throwing things on the bed, one after the other. The first flutters, dark and flat, onto the sheets—the kosode and hakama of his shihakusho. The second are Kira's tabi and waraji. The final item is much heavier and lands with a muted thump—it's Wabisuke.

"Was I discharged, Ichimaru-taicho?" Kira folds shut the front of his shihakusho and starts to belt his zanpakuto.

"No." There's no trace of humor in Gin's voice now. "But I know how much you hate staying here overnight, and we've got guys who can patch you up just as well."

"Won't Unohana-taicho be displeased? Kira shudders at the thought, though he's never actually seen her get angry. He only served under her for a short time, but like any current or former Fourth Division member, Kira harbors a healthy respect for and fear of Unohana's ability to make smears on the floor of people who cross her.

"Do you want to leave or not?"

"Yes, sir!" Kira assures him hastily, practically running to keep up with him in the cool, silent, empty halls.

"Glad we cleared that up. Now be quiet. If we get caught, I'm telling them this was your idea."


	61. Keep Your Enemies Closer

**Title**: Keep Your Enemies Closer**  
Characters**: Shinji, Aizen**  
Summary**: Shinji makes a fatal mistake.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Timeline**: Pre-Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Author's Note**: A little filler piece. It would have been so better for everyone if Shinji had just had the guts to kill Aizen and not care about the consequences.**  
Word Count**: 279**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Sakanade hisses constantly that he can't be trusted, he must be killed, and Shinji's inclined to agree but has no idea what he'd do with the body. So he settles to watch and observe and contents himself with the thought that he'll kill him if the latter so much as steps a toe out of line.

Shinji distrusts Aizen the way a dog instantly despises a cat; it's irrational and purely a thing of instinct, but so consuming that it can not be turned away from or abandoned.

The kid's just a little _too _curious. A little too watchful, a little too nice, a little too respectful, a little too unctuous. He has the tendency to show up in places where he shouldn't be, always under suspicious circumstances, and no matter how hard he tries, Shinji can't prove a thing, can't make a single suspicion stick to the impervious back of Aizen Sousuke.

He can't kill him, can't have him shipped to the detention unit so, instead, Shinji promotes him. It'll be easier to keep an eye on him this way.

"Hello." Shinji comes upon the boy and some of his friends in a sunlit corridor; they all bow respectfully. Shinji nods to the two other young men. "You two clear out; I need to speak to our fifth seat alone."

Once alone, Aizen addresses him, hands still tucked behind his back professionally. "You wished to speak with me, Hirako-taicho?" His brown eyes are bland behind his glasses but Shinji can practically see the cogs working in the boy's head.

Shinji pastes on his best toothy, Cheshire Cat's grin. "Tell me, Sousuke, how do you feel about a promotion?"


	62. Perfectly Alright

**Title**: Perfectly Alright**  
Characters**: Kira, Rangiku, Gin (in spirit)**  
Summary**: Despite what anyone says, it's alright to miss him.**  
Pairings**: GinRan**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Angst, Drama, Friendship**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Vague spoiler for Deicide arc; could be interpreted as spoiler for Soul Society arc**  
Timeline**: Post-Deicide arc**  
Author's Note**: Since Kira and Rangiku were both close to Gin, I can see how they might be pulled closer together in the wake of his departure. And I like to think of them as friends.**  
Word Count**: 207**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

A hand squeezes his shoulder gently, and Kira looks up, to see Rangiku smile with a gentle sadness at him as she pulls up a chair and sits beside him, smoothing down her hakama.

"So," she asks quietly, "how are you?"

The brush—Kira likes to do paperwork with a brush as opposed to a pen; it fits better in his fingers—is still poised in his hand, but it is stationary and doesn't move. He can't quite bring himself to look her in the eye. "About the same," he answers evasively, "as the last time you asked."

Which was about a day and a half ago, reasonable for some, but far, far too close for Kira.

She nods, understanding. "So…what you mean is that you still feel like hell, right?"

There's no use hiding it. "Yes."

Rangiku sloshes the canteen of jasmine tea she's brought with her and stares pensively down into its depths, strangely subdued. "You know, it's alright to feel hurt. It's alright…" she hesitates, brow furrowing and the light of pain coming into her eyes "…to miss him."

Kira narrows his eyes. "And it's alright, to still not be able to understand why?"

Her hand grips his shoulder again. "Yes. It's perfectly alright."


	63. White Pills

**Title**: White Pills**  
Characters**: Kiyone, Isane, OC**  
Summary**: Kiyone helps her sister on a shift at the hospital.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Please tell me I'm not the only person who can see something like this happening, even if it's not with Kiyone and Isane.**  
Word Count**: 563**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

If anyone is made unhappy by Kiyone's presence in the hospital, they dare not voice their grievances to or in earshot of her sister Isane. The shy, timid girl becomes a lioness in the defense of her baby sister; even Yamada Seinosuke-fukutaicho, risk taker of the Fourth division, is wary of arousing Isane's sisterly wrath. And he can sympathize with her from having to look after Hanatarou at all hours of the day and night. So Kiyone at times follows her sister around on her shifts, and no one comments. No one even dares to breathe too loudly.

Kiyone is still found to be just a little annoying by her sister's colleagues, though.

"Do you have many more patients to see before the end of your shift, neesan?" Kiyone almost has to run to keep up with her much-taller sister's leisurely pace; her red school hakama chafes her skin as she tries to keep pace with Isane.

"Just one," Isane replies, nibbling on her lip and checking her omnipresent clipboard. "He broke his leg and a couple of ribs a week ago, and he's having issues with the pain, despite the fact that he should be too doped up with painkillers to even speak." Gray eyes that are the only trait they share meet. "He's in the last room in this hall on the left hand side. I'll be done after I see to him, I promise."

Isane knocks lightly before the two of them step in. The man sitting on the bed is, to Kiyone's eyes, perfectly non-descript and plain, with brown hair and matching eyes. His foots in a cast and his face is pale and sweating and creased with pain.

"Hello, Nobuyoshi-san," Isane greets him cheerfully. "How are you—"

"It's about time you got here," Nobuyoshi cuts her off snappishly; Kiyone frowns fiercely at him from behind her sister, but he doesn't notice. "Don't you people have anything stronger?" he growls.

Isane's mouth forms a thin line as she takes a small pill bottle out of her bag. "If you're talking about painkillers, Nobuyoshi-san—" her voice is now noticeably clipped and stiff; it's clear she's used to this sort of treatment from him and that it's only professional courtesy that keeps her from losing her temper "—yes, of course we have something stronger, though I can't understand why the other painkillers aren't helping you at all."

They continue to talk and Kiyone, bored, goes to sit by the window. It's just rained, and the clouds are moving away, sparkling silver sheets on the horizon, and there's huge puddles on the grounds below, on the wide stone walkways. Kiyone laments the fact that she's gotten just old enough that it's no longer considered appropriate to go jumping in the glistening puddles.

Once the skies outside no longer hold any interest, Kiyone turns her gaze to the room, and soon her eyes are drawn to something very odd.

"Neesan… what are all those little white pills doing in Nobuyoshi-san's bed?"

Deadly quiet falls over the room. Isane's face becomes as hard as a block of ice, and Nobuyoshi snarls at Kiyone. "You little bitch."

"That 'bitch' is my sister," Isane growls, gray eyes glittering frigidly. "And I'm going to Unohana-taicho."

Nobuyoshi's face whitens considerably at this, but there's nothing he can say to change her mind.

"Come on, Kiyone."


	64. Gray Hairs

**Title**: Gray Hairs**  
Characters**: Unohana**  
Summary**: There's no need to panic. It's only one, after all.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: None needed**  
Author's Note**: I can't see Unohana freaking out over gray hairs, personally. And I'm up to one hundred reviews! Milestone, baby!**  
Word Count**: 283**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Three strokes for every lock held in her hand if they are devoid of tangles; as many as needed, if there are snarls in the thick black strands. It's a long held tradition, one she hasn't broken out of for well over fifteen hundred years ago, since she grew her hair long enough to be braided back.

Unohana's callused fingers wrap over the ivory handle as the soft spines of the brush go through her silken hair, and counts strokes and silent minutes, in the quiet morning before the sun rises and everything bursts into activity. The silence is the time Unohana loves best, when all she can hear is the song of early-rising birds and songs from birds of another king, the swishing sounds of showers being turned on by half-awake Shinigami, too fatigued to speak. If she concentrates very hard, Unohana can smell coffee being brewed and tea being heated through the window open to the balcony beyond.

Her eyes return to the mirror—always better to concentrate fully on the task at hand—and Unohana is lulled into half-sleep again by the rhythmic motions of her hand.

Then, silver glints back at her from the mirror, and Unohana, frowning, sets the hairbrush back down on her polished vanity.

Hands sift through layers of dark hair and finally, Unohana finds what troubled her sight. A single silver hair.

Gray.

Graying.

Grayed.

She stares at it for a moment, silent and still.

Then, manicured fingernails find the root and, quickly, quietly, pluck the gray hair out.

It finds itself in the wastebasket by the vanity, and Unohana continues on with her brushing.

There's no need for panic. It's only one, after all.


	65. The Old Trap

**Title**: The Old Trap**  
Characters**: Mayuri, Hiyori**  
Summary**: After experimenting on test subjects, Mayuri's favorite hobby is baiting Hiyori.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Timeline**: Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Author's Note**: Mayuri probably got on Hiyori's nerves a lot, and vice versa. They would have had a deeply antagonistic relationship.**  
Word Count**: 244**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Hey, you!"

"Go play in traffic; I'm busy."

Hiyori, infuriated with that blasé remark, instantly levels a blow at Mayuri which he deftly dodges and coolly ignores, though he is forced to grab a beaker full of a viscous blue liquid to keep it from collapsing to the ground. He shakes his head and screws his gold eyes shut. What a clumsy, vicious little girl…

"Urahara wants you to do something for him?"

Mayuri manages a small, smug smile as he turns on the balls of his feet to face her. "Would it be the categorizing and organization of all the files on the research section of the Twelfth division?"

Hiyori's face goes blotchy red; she's falling directly into the old trap. "Yeah. You know about it?"

"I've already _done _it, you stupid girl." Sharp incisors show, and Mayuri turns around dismissively and waves her off. "Now go away; I have very important work to do."

Her reaction is immediate.

"You bastard!" Something goes flying past Mayuri's right ear and shatters against the far wall, sliding in a concoction of glass shards and sulfurous yellow liquid to the ground.

A single yellow eye turns on Hiyori. "You may be the lieutenant of this division, but for your sake, I certainly hope that wasn't anything important."

Hiyori stomps out in a huff, and a slow grin unfurls like a ghastly blooming flower on Mayuri's face.

He so loves making her do things she'll regret later.


	66. Far Better than Expected

**Title**: Far Better than Expected**  
Characters**: Urahara, Orihime, Ishida, Chad, Ichigo**  
Summary**: He never expected any of them to come back alive.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: General spoilers**  
Timeline**: Past current events**  
Author's Note**: Urahara is an unrepentant schemer but he's not without a heart.**  
Word Count**: 325**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Urahara never expected to see any of them come back alive from all the places he sent them to.

Orihime is—he checks to make sure and is _very_ sure—a decidedly accident-prone teenage girl who lacks so much as a suspicion that all is not right with the world, though Urahara can't pretend to be privy to the inner workings of her mind. She's the sort who practically walks into danger.

The Quincy race as a whole are, as Urahara vividly remembers, people who possess a disproportionate amount of bad luck, pride blinding them to danger creeping up from behind. And considering what happened to Uryuu's mother and grandfather, Urahara looked at the boy, every single time, shook his head when no one was watching, and expected him to end up the same way.

Sado. The boy's strong, exceptionally strong, but he wouldn't hurt a fly if he didn't have to and he has no stomach for killing. That sort of thing isn't going to translate well in the atmosphere of Soul Society and Hueco Mundo; in fights there, it's always kill or be killed.

But by far, the one Urahara most expected to be returned to him in a body bag was Ichigo. Brash, hot-blooded Ichigo. Far more levelheaded than his father could ever hope to be but possessing not even a small fraction of Isshin's combat experience. He rushes into situations without even partially realizing the danger he puts himself in and drags all the others along with him.

And somehow, they all came out alive. They all came out, not by any means unscathed but relatively whole and not dying on his floor.

And Urahara takes a step back and finds he's maybe a little happy that they always seem to land on their feet, even if they take a few nasty turns on the way down.

Because maybe he's growing a little attached to this ragtag band of human children.


	67. Beneath his Dignity

**Title**: Beneath his Dignity**  
Characters**: Byakuya, Shunsui, Kenpachi, Rukia**  
Summary**: Even Byakuya knows how to come through.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Humor, Friendship**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for chapter 423  
**Timeline**: Post-423**  
Author's Note**: Yamamoto losing his cool over the haoris made me laugh so hard.**  
Word Count**: 204**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Niisama?"

Byakuya is walking away from his audience with Yamamoto, flanked by Shunsui and Kenpachi and still feeling more than a little singed (Yamamoto can do that without ever having to so much as raise his zanpakuto, making grown captains feel like naughty children caught in a prank—not that Byakuya pranks… _anymore_), when the small voice sounds behind him, upwards in lilt to get his attention.

He turns, and finds Rukia standing behind, with a piece of white cloth neatly folded in her arm, "Niisama? You left this?"

Byakuya accepts the lightweight linen and nods to her. "Thank you, Rukia." The gratefulness is a model in restraint but heartfelt all the same. Rukia smiles slightly and dips a shallow bow before walking off.

Once she's gone, Kenpachi glowers at Byakuya and Shunsui laughs, soft and rueful. "Baby sister really came through," he murmurs. "Okay, you're off the hook. Now what about us?"

He doesn't so much as look at them as they start walking again, as far from Yamamoto's prospective wrath as they can get. "As I said, Kyouraku-taicho, I can quite easily have them replaced."

"What? You'd do that?"

Byakuya doesn't answer or make eye contact. It would be beneath his dignity.


	68. The Old Captain

**Title**: The Old Captain**  
Characters**: Hinamori, Shinji**  
Summary**: Hinamori gets a strange visitor in the hospital.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Angst**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Deicide and Fake Karakura Town arcs**  
Timeline**: Post-Deicide arc**  
Author's Note**: I thought it might be interesting to have them meet.**  
Word Count**: 317**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

The door bursts open and Hinamori almost says, "Hello, Rangiku-san," when she sees yellow hair, but stops herself when she sees that it's a man who's come to visit her.

"Good morning, Hinamori-chan!" He seems ebulliently enthusiastic and Hinamori's sure she's never met this man before, but she doesn't object to him calling her "-chan"; there's not enough hours in the day to worry over something like that.

Hinamori watches in silence as the tall man lets himself in and twirls a chair around to sit leaning with his front against the back. He's dressed in human clothes—but is plainly not a human; Hinamori senses a very strange, almost ominous reiatsu off of him but is too far off on painkillers and antibiotics to care enough to investigate more closely—with the front of his shirt left open to expose a chest heavily swathed in bandages. He wears his hair in a page cut that Hinamori is far more used to seeing on women, and he has a long, split mouth that reveals large teeth.

"Hello." She nods and smiles sweetly, and before she can say anything else, the strange man launches into one-sided conversation again.

"I wouldn't be bothering you but nobody'll let me see Hiyori and Lisa's holed up with Nanao-chan and won't let me in, and there's no one else around, so I figured I'd come see you."

Hinamori tilts her head slightly, ignoring the pain that lances through her head when she does that and gives him a confused smile. "Well, that's very sweet, but… I'm sorry, but who are you?"

His entire face changes at this. Pinched, quiet, a little sad, even tiny sparks of guilt flashing like stars in his brown eyes.

"No… No one, nobody. Nobody you need you need to worry about, Hinamori-chan." He sighs and reaches over to pat the top of her hand. "Nobody important anymore."


	69. Adult Among Children

**Title**: Adult among Children**  
Characters**: Yamamoto**  
Summary**: They're all children.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: None needed**  
Author's Note**: If Yamamoto _doesn't _have this mindset, I'll eat my non-existent internet hat.**  
Word Count**: 204**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

They are all like children, Yamamoto realizes with a weary sigh, and even mature Shinigami like Juushiro and Shunsui prove themselves to have the mental faculties of children at times.

Somehow, just when Yamamoto starts to think that he could die without everything going to Hell in a hand basket, all the Shinigami, or just some of them, do something breathtakingly stupid and convince him that he has to stay on to keep the whole infrastructure of Seireitei from collapsing entirely.

For one thing, Byakuya, a normally intelligent and level-headed young Shinigami, somehow got it into his head to…

Well, Yamamoto would rather not go into that. The memory's too painful; he'd had considerably more respect for Byakuya's common sense before this happened. And somehow, Nanao and Shuuhei, also intelligent young Shinigami, got roped into the plot. Of course, Yachiru had been the ringleader, so that could be what was wrong with the whole thing, but really, the three of them should have known better than to do what Yachiru had had in mind.

And to think that these three represent the future?

Yamamoto feels another headache coming on.

It looks like he's going to have to stay alive another thousand years, at least.


	70. Satisfaction

**Title**: Satisfaction**  
Characters**: Rangiku, Nanao, Soi Fong, Nemu**  
Summary**: Soi Fong's going to be petitioning for Nemu to transfer very soon now.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: None needed**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report.**  
Word Count**: 210**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Nanao and Rangiku exchange glances and sigh irritably. "Well, this night is ruined." Rangiku snarls and shakes her head and begins to rip up the pieces of paper in her hands with cool, deliberate anger.

"Completely."

Nanao watches as a piece of paper flutters to the dew-laden grass.

"Absolutely."

They're starting to disintegrate from moisture.

"Ruined."

It's hard for Nanao not to agree with her on this.

"I mean, how the hell are we supposed to get into the bathhouse now, I ask you—"

Then, out of nowhere, Soi Fong comes out of the darkness of the alley nearby, Nemu following close behind. Soi Fong has a smirk of epic proportions on her pale, sallow face, hands folded in her shihakusho and hidden out of sight.

Nanao can't fail to notice. "What? What is it?"

For once, Soi Fong doesn't object to the lack of respect. "We've got it," she half-whispers. "We've got it," she cackles, more loudly, gesturing Nemu forward. "I love it when someone actually obeys orders! She was great!"

Rangiku raises an eyebrow and smiles at Nemu. "I take it things went well?"

Nemu nods. "Yes, Matsumoto-fukutaicho."

"I'm gonna try to get her father to let her transfer over to my division. Mayuri can _have _Omaeda."


	71. Keep Smiling

**Title**: Keep Smiling**  
Characters**: Uryuu, Soken**  
Summary**: It's one promise Uryuu always wished he could have kept.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Family, Angst, Hurt/Comfort**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: I don't think knowing the background behind the drabble is necessary.**  
Word Count**: 262**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"You have to keep smiling, you know."

Uryuu wipes at his wet eyes and cranes his head around to stare at his grandfather. "W-What?"

Soken is a small man, grown smaller over the years, and at seven Uryuu is a bit big for anyone, let alone his by now diminutive grandfather, to be pulling him into their lap. One thin arm's instead wrapped around his shoulders as they huddle under the oak tree, offering comfort as best he can. Uryuu's old enough that crying in front of others by now mortifies him and that he'll try not to, but Soken's questioning, well-meaning and concerned but hitting just a little too close to home eventually wore him down.

The old man raises his free hand and runs it down the back of the child's head, smiling gently as Uryuu continues frantically wiping at his reddened cheeks, embarrassed by the presence of tears. "Uryuu, trust me, it's easier if you smile. It's always so much easier to weather out everything bad that happens to you if you just remember how to smile."

He nods, not really understanding, but taking his grandfather's words as doctrine. "Okay." Uryuu hesitates for a moment and decides he's not quite too old for this as he leans into the old man's chest and hiccups. "Okay." The second word is muffled.

Soken's only response is the two arms tightening around Uryuu's back.

.

Later on, much later, Uryuu says "What's there to smile about?", means it, and tries not to think about his grandfather when the words leave his mouth.


	72. Out of the Cage

**Title**: Out of the Cage**  
Characters**: Nanao, Starrk, Lilinette**  
Summary**: Why is it such a bad thing?**  
Pairings**: implied Starrk x Nanao**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: AU**  
Timeline**: None needed**  
Author's Note**: I can't ever see Nanao actually doing something remotely like this in canon, so obviously this is AU.**  
Word Count**: 184**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Why is it bad to feel so much freer here? Why should she feel like she's in a cage? As far as she can tell, she's just stepped out of the cage, left the bars behind and has tasted the free air for the first time in decades.

Yes, she misses her friends, that small group of people she called friends, but she can see them again—_it won't be the same, but she's long since learned that no course of action taken is entirely without its good or bad points—_though it won't be the same.

And it was a small price to pay for freedom.

The cool night air hits her face now, brisk and utterly devoid of humidity—she's always hated the rain.

"Nanao, come on inside. It's only going to get colder."

She manages a slightly sad half-smile, and Lilinette shrugs sympathetically.

Starrk's a little protective, too, the way Kyouraku-taicho was. But Nanao has learned to take the bad with the good, and Starrk at least doesn't have to shake off the shadows of the past to look at her.


	73. Finding Yachiru

**Title**: Finding Yachiru**  
Characters**: Yachiru, Ikkaku, Yumichika, Kenpachi, Unohana, Nemu, Shuuhei, Soi Fong, Renji, Byakuya**  
Summary**: It's become such a common activity for their division.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: None needed**  
Author's Note**: I had the picture in my mind and had to get it down in writing.**  
Word Count**: 229**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"I'm gonna kill that little brat," Ikkaku growls, but Yumichika can tell he's just as worried as he is. Kenpachi has long since broken ranks to search by himself, and Ikkaku and Yumichika are the only ones left together to spread out through Seireitei searching.

They all curse the fact that "Finding Yachiru" has become such a regular activity for the Eleventh division.

Yumichika tugs on Ikkaku's sleeve and they both remember to go check the Fourth and Twelfth divisions, since Unohana and Nemu are two of Yachiru's favorite people. Unohana's brow furrows and Nemu shakes her head silently; neither of them have seen her. The same goes for Shunsui and Ukitake; both are puzzled.

Shuuhei snarls and points in the general direction of the interior; Soi Fong rolls her eyes and says the little hurricane has been through there, wrecked the place and gone. All this while she's standing on the body of her fallen lieutenant. Nobody knows exactly _where_ Yachiru is at this moment.

They search for hours.

Finally when the sun's going down, they find her. The Sixth Division's in shambles, Ikkaku almost laughs at the dazed look on Renji's face, and Byakuya can be found sitting cross-legged against the outer wall, eyes staring into space. Yachiru is fast asleep, her head lolled limply on his lap while Byakuya absently strokes her hair with one hand.


	74. Play Date

**Title**: Play Date**  
Characters**: Nemu, Yachiru**  
Summary**: Yachiru gets Nemu to come play with her.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Friendship, Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: None needed**  
Author's Note**: It _is_ spelled "storey" when applied to the levels of a building.**  
Word Count**: 276**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

The familiar tug makes the hairs on her head strain and Nemu looks down, knowing it's Yachiru. She's contemplating cutting her hair if only because it's so uncomfortable, but Nemu secretly knows she won't; vanity is such a bewildering sensation, but it's applied fully to her hair and Nemu simply won't feel right without her long braid swishing behind her.

She nods politely to Yachiru, who's half-skipping along behind her and runs to match Nemu's brisk pace. "Good morning, Kusajishi-fukutaicho." The mid-morning sun shines intensely down on the Twelfth division headquarters and barracks.

"Come play with me, Miniskirt-chan!" Yachiru is, as per usual, Nemu notes, quite direct. Her toothy smile is so bright that Nemu thinks, a little absurdly, that if it could be converted into light energy it would most likely power the light bulbs in the laboratories for a month.

Nemu shifts the box full of files in her arms for emphasis. "I am sorry, Kusajishi-fukutaicho but I have a great deal of work to do today."

"But you haven't come to play with me in _forrrevvverrrrr_!" Yachiru whines. "Pretty please?"

Something in the tone gives Nemu pause and a pang in her stomach, despite herself.

Then, all of a sudden, all contemplation is cut short as a chair goes flying out of a closed third-storey window, followed by the sound of people fleeing and a wordless, rabid howl of frustration.

Three guesses as to who's screaming.

"Nemu's eyes narrow, watching the chair make its rapid progress from the third storey to a wooden awning shielding the ground level of the building.

"Perhaps," she says, very slowly, "Perhaps, I can make certain arrangements."

"Great!"


	75. Professional Curiosity

**Title**: Professional Curiosity**  
Characters**: Nemu, Ishida**  
Summary**: Tonight is the first time it fails her.**  
Pairings**: slight Ishida x Nemu**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Angst**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Soul Society arc**  
Timeline**: Chapter 126**  
Author's Note**: This is sort of an expansion on a scene in chapter 126.**  
Word Count**: 237**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Why are you—" Nemu almost says the words of the rest of the question out loud, but stops herself just in time, the words dying abruptly in her throat.

Nemu is naturally curious—she was programmed to be that way, wired that way, and it's ingrained into her mind more irrevocably than any of Mayuri's other lessons could ever hope to be.

Her arms are still around his neck when she tries and falters to learn—arms are still numb and limp and barely feeling, as though her veins are saturated with lead instead of blood. The Quincy boy shows a ridiculous lack of concern for his own well-being and insists on helping her into a more comfortable position before taking the antidote. It's an awkward, clumsy process, compounded by her paralysis and dislike of being touched and the fact that he's still weak and lightheaded from the poison.

She is curious, but for some reason, something just stops her. Nemu's afraid to know, afraid to ask.

Naturally he hears, and puts two and two together.

There's not any trace of hate in his blue eyes, just sickened pity and strange neutrality. "I don't know," he admits, quiet and voice humming with something Nemu really can't identify. "But I can't just leave you like this, can I?"

Nemu stares at him.

She doesn't understand, but her curiosity fails her for the first time in her life.


	76. Chroma

**Title**: Chroma**  
Characters**: Yachiru**  
Summary**: All this blood is glorious.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: General, Horror**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Yachiru is so very disturbed. No one can dispute that.**  
Word Count**: 132**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Yachiru slips in all the blood and giggles as her palms are smeared and dabbed scarlet as though she's been going at the red paint in finger painting.

Her purple yukata is stained and she doesn't know where Ken-chan is, but all this blood is glorious and smells so strange but oddly intoxicating too. The bodies sit like drained vessels around her and to Yachiru they seem like dried out corn husks, shucked away and used to fashion crude dolls to play with.

Not that she ever plays with dolls. That would be just so not like her; Yachiru likes to play outside in the fresh, crisp pre-winter air with Ken-chan.

And he's not here to play with her now.

She's alone.

But all this blood is glorious.

So Yachiru doesn't care.


	77. Sacrosanct

**Title**: Sacrosanct  
**Characters**: Uryuu, Ryuuken  
**Summary**: What white is to them.  
**Pairings**: None  
**Rating**: K+  
**Genres**: General, Angst  
**Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers  
**Timeline**: None needed  
**Author's Note**: Nothing to report. Feedback would be appreciated.  
**Word Count**: 334  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

What should be pure and inviolate is instead stained and tarnished and another point of warring difference for them both.

To Uryuu, white is childhood that was so much simpler and easier to understand than the present, though maybe not happier. There's never been too much happiness, he realizes gloomily, twisting silver chain in his hands.

White is the blank pain of wanting love, wanting acceptance and approval, but of giving up when he realizes he's never going to get it. White is balance sought but never found, no medians to the fissures rising and no answers found anywhere. White is realizing it's been days, literally days since he's seen his father and remembering, as his grandfather does with a furrowed brow, that he's never bothered to call.

White is certainty found in knowing that what he's doing is right, even if it means leading himself down a path that leads to conflict with his father, who seems to have forgotten, or maybe just never knew in the first place.

Snow white, blank white, is life alone, cast out far too young but managing to survive anyway, the colors of the blank walls of the barely furnished apartment in which he lays down to rest.

White is an uncertain future, lived in the warrior's life, that will only promise death in the end.

But what point is life, if there is no purpose beyond blank white battle for him?

And Ryuuken has always, will always see different whites. White is antiquated customs that no longer bear meaning, a way of life that can't sustain and can't support, not anymore. White is everything lost, even though Ryuuken, with cold logic, knows he should see red instead.

White is the past. White is past, present and future hell. White is death.

And white is irrelevant and no longer pure, when Ryuuken has long since ceased to see the world in black and white, and knows that there are instead only light and darker shades of gray.


	78. Cases of Self Defense

**Title**: Cases of Self Defense**  
Characters**: Nanao, Shunsui, OC**  
Summary**: Shunsui gives Nanao some advice.**  
Pairings**: light Shunsui x Nanao**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: This is set before Nanao became the lieutenant of the Eighth division. Needless to say, Shunsui gets brownie points in this for being protective in this for being protective in a good way.**  
Word Count**: 377**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

_Crack!_

Nanao's head snaps to the side and, eyes screwed shut, she reaches up to dab at the blood seeping from her mouth—she accidentally bit into her cheek when the hand collided against her face.

The Third seat's hand rises to strike her again, taking Nanao's silence for further insubordination, but another catches his wrist before his skin can connect with hers.

Kyouraku-taicho's usually jovial mien is utterly devoid of humor as he shoots a glare that could freeze hell over at the Third seat. "May I ask _exactly _what you think you're doing?"

The Third seat flinches, and Nanao gapes, eyes wide and round.

Immediately, he comes to his own defense. "She refused to follow my orders! She—"

Kyouraku-taicho's eyes narrow. "I heard you telling her, quite well," he informs him frigidly. "Ise Nanao has work to do—work _I _gave her; she was well within her rights to refuse you."

"She was insolent!"

The captain closes his eyes and breathes hard through his nose. "I'm going to rephrase this, once, and only once. Lay a hand on her again and I snap your neck. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

The tone Kyouraku-taicho takes makes it perfectly clear that he's not joking, and the Third seat nods vigorously, face bleached salt white. "Yes, taicho." He licks dry lips. "Do I have your permission to withdraw?"

Kyouraku-taicho waves a hand dismissively. "Get out of here."

He wastes no time in doing so.

Nanao's cheeks burn as Kyouraku-taicho turns his concerned eye to her and puts a hand under her chin. "I guess he didn't get you too bad," he mutters dubiously.

Nanao ducks away from his hand, skittish as usual and fully aware of where her captain's hands on female Shinigami usually end up. "I'm perfectly alright, Kyouraku-taicho."

He sighs wearily and pats her shoulder, propelling her on down the sidewalk despite Nanao's small protests. "I know you are, I know. But listen. The next time someone hits you, you deck him, got it? I don't care if it's the captain commander himself, I will back you up on it."

She stares at him for a moment, wide-eyed, before nodding briefly. She can already feel the hand mark burning into a bruise. "Yes, sir."


	79. No Graves for the Lost

**Title**: No Graves for the Lost**  
Characters**: Nanao, Shunsui, Lisa (in spirit)**  
Summary**: They have a silent understanding.**  
Pairings**: light Shunsui x Nanao**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Angst**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Timeline**: Post-Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Author's Note**: Cue the sugar-saturated angst.**  
Word Count**: 189**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

There will be no grave marker. Neither of them can bear to close the books like that. It's not a closure they want, not a closure that will bring them any peace of mind because the questions still linger and there was never a body, so they can't ever really know what happened to Lisa.

A grave stone's not going to change that.

But they do think about it, from time to time.

Nanao frowns and stares at the ground and Shunsui instead peers absently off into space. They don't dare, don't need to voice their questions; they both know what's going through the other's minds and don't need to say anything out loud.

On those burnished yellow evenings is the only time Nanao allows Shunsui to put his arm around her without protesting or swiping him or swatting his hand away. Nanao instead just leans into him, they are both silent, and he doesn't tease her about it later.

Nanao would never admit it, but she needs the comfort, and Shunsui makes for a good teddy bear.

It's not like they have any graves to visit, after all.


	80. Fill You In

**Title**: Fill You In**  
Characters**: Shinji, Lisa, Nanao**  
Summary**: Shinji puts two and two together.**  
Pairings**: none**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: Post-Deicide arc**  
Author's Note**: Can you imagine? And word to the wise, I like to use the word "cackling" when describing Shinji. I have absolutely no idea why.**  
Word Count**: 177**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Shinji finally manages to circumvent the lock on Lisa's hospital door and only has a second before he does a neck-snapping double-take, gaping at the other visitor in the room.

"Shinji?" Lisa shrieks, pulling the sheets up her torso protectively. "What the hell? Haven't you ever heard of knocking?"

Quite pointedly ignoring her, he stares at the young woman sitting on the edge of the bed.

She's twisted her head around so that her eyes, though not her lower face, are visible. The girl has shiny black hair knotted in a clipped coil, and bluish-violet eyes framed with sooty lashes and shielded by gleaming glasses lenses.

Their eyes meet for a moment, and, after that moment has passed, Shinji remembers the little girl who was always in Lisa's shadow back when they were all still part of the Gotei Thirteen.

He laughs.

"Stick around, Nanao-chan." He grins, ignoring the piercing jade glare Lisa levels at him. "Have I got some stories for you."

"_Get out, Shinji_!"

Lisa flings a pillow at him, and Shinji runs out, cackling.


	81. Not From You

**Title**: Not From You**  
Characters**: Byakuya, Kaien**  
Summary**: Byakuya hates Kaien.**  
Pairings**: Byakuya x Hisana, Kaien x Miyako**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: Angst, Drama, Tragedy**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Soul Society arc**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: I thought it might be a point for them to come together, but I decided this would be more character-appropriate.**  
Word Count**: 283**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

He resents the older man's presence immediately.

Not because they have always shared enmity for each other. Not because they can't stand each other and not because Byakuya finds Kaien uncouth and provincial and because Kaien sees the Kuchiki as spoiled and slightly effeminate.

It's because Kaien is still whole, because the day has gone down and Kaien hasn't lost anything, still has everything that matters to him, and Byakuya, on the other hand, has had to watch as the only thing that made his life seem even remotely right flew out of his hands like a paper bird and withered under flame.

Kaien hasn't lost Miyako, and Byakuya's not sure, but he may spend every day for the rest of his life hating him for that.

It would be easier if Kaien would just mock him, so he'd have an excuse to tell him to leave. Just give him a reason to be angry, a reason to shout and scream and take his angers and frustrations out on him.

Kaien, of course, doesn't deliver.

Instead, a rough hand callused by hard work and sword play, descends like a vise on Byakuya's arm. He wants it to leave, so badly, but it won't, and physical contact sends him screaming and reeling inside, skin dying in agony.

"Listen, Kuchiki… I'm sorry."

Byakuya squeezes his eyes tight shut. _Not from you not from you not from you…_

"You were a brat, though you seem to have grown up. And you loved your wife. No one should ever have to…"

Kaien falls apart in his words.

Byakuya says nothing as he walks away, but he is still stiff and rigid, as though Kaien has never left.


	82. The Joys of Acupuncture

**Title**: The Joys of Acupuncture**  
Characters**: Ishida, Nanao**  
Summary**: "You do that to yourself?"**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Friendship, Humor, a tiny bit of Angst**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: None needed**  
Author's Note**: This takes place in the same universe as _The Houseguest_ and _Perfectly Intolerable_, two separate oneshots not connected to this drabble collection. Please read them first, otherwise all of this is going to seem more than a little random. And yes, even with those in mind, this _is_ more than a little weird; I will understand if you come away having no clue what's going on.**  
Word Count**: 324**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"You should try acupuncture if you really want to relieve stress," Ishida notes clinically.

Nanao rolls her eyes, still twisting her khaki skirt in her hand compulsively. "There are no acupuncturists in Soul Society. Trust me, I've looked. _None_; none, I tell you! I was curious, so I checked, just to make sure." She tips her head, confused and a little suspicious. "And as far as I can tell, there aren't any acupuncturists in Karakura Town, either, so I'm going to assume you aren't speaking from personal experience."

Ishida raises an eyebrow, a little surprised, and Nanao watches as his eyes grow just a little glassy. "There aren't?" A little more quietly, he adds, looking down, "I never let that stop me."

For a moment, Nanao is silent, listening in irritation to Ukitake-taicho and Kyouraku-taicho inside, before she realizes exactly what he just said.

Her head snaps around.

"What did you just say?" she squeaks, wild-eyed.

Ishida looks at her as though he can't possible understand what's so surprising. He repeats himself. "I said, 'I never let that stop me'."

"Oh, my _God_!" Nanao shrieks, so loudly that she's amazed the two captains can't hear her. "You do that to _yourself_?"

He just shrugs. "As you have probably gathered," he murmurs, very quietly, "I am at times in need of it."

Nanao shakes her head and hides her face in her bunched knees. "I hope you at least sterilize the needles," she groans, squeezing her eyes tightly shut as she hugs her knees to her chest.

"Of course I do." Ishida sounds affronted that she even has to ask.

"You're such a masochistic freak," she moans. "You know that, don't you?"

Ishida doesn't answer.

After a moment, she looks up, and whispers, with a horrified sort of fascination, "Is it…_painful_?"

"Not really. It's a little uncomfortable at first, but you get used to it after a while. And I am very used to pain."


	83. Sick Bed

**Title**: Sick Bed**  
Characters**: Nanao, Ukitake**  
Summary**: She's barely sure why she's here.**  
Pairings**: Ukitake x Nanao**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Friendship, Romance**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: None needed**  
Author's Note**: I like Ukitake x Nanao, more than Ukitake x Rukia or Ukitake x Unohana. Don't ask me why; it just gives me warm feelings inside for some reason.**  
Word Count**: 328**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

_Why am I always here? Why do I spend so many long, wakeful nights here? There are others who could do this just as well, if not better than me._

The landscape of the Thirteenth Division's captain's office is an alien world to Nanao, especially cloaked in night darkness with even the smallest of candles put out—Ukitake-taicho prefers candles over the more modern affectation of light bulbs.

Shunsui can't make it tonight. He's on assignment and probably doesn't even know his friend is sick again. Nanao wonders if this isn't another part of the reason that Shunsui will never let her go on missions, to make sure someone's behind to take care of Ukitake when he gets sick.

But she can barely tell why she's here. There's knots in her stomach and throat as she listens to him cough. Nanao hates to watch someone get sick of something that can't be cured, to be confronted with a problem she can't solve.

Especially when _he's_ the one with the problem she can't solve.

So why is she here?

"I can't imagine…" The voice comes out of darkness and Nanao sits up, startled; she had been half asleep, nodding off. Ukitake pauses to cough, and then speaks up, and Nanao can see the rueful smile on his face and gleam in his brown eyes, as his hand searches out hers in the dark. "That this is the sort of way you want to spend your nights, Ise-san."

By an old man's sickbed, he means, and Nanao can hear those words just as clearly as Ukitake. By an old man's sickbed, when she herself is still young.

His still smooth skin is cool in hers, slightly moist from saliva and blood—he's been holding it up to his mouth as he coughs. Nanao's small, pale fingers tighten around his.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be," Nanao asserts firmly and staunchly, almost a little surprised to find that she means it.


	84. Bad Hair Days

**Title**: Bad Hair Days**  
Characters**: Sun-Sun, Apache**  
Summary**: Sun-Sun is more than happy to help Apache.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Friendship**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Rated for language; spoilers for Hueco Mundo arc**  
Timeline**: Pre-Fake Karakura Town arc**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report. Feedback would be appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 197**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Apache's shriek of frustration coming from the bathroom Harribel's three Fracción share is what draws Sun-Sun onto the scene, gently pressing open the door—Apache never leaves it locked.

Sun-Sun is instantly glad that it's not Mila-Rose who found her, and covers her mouth with her hand to prevent her teeth showing in a smile.

She wasn't aware Apache's short, fine hair could get so badly tangled.

Mismatched eyes quickly spot out the taller Arrancar's presence.

"What the hell are you looking at!" Apache shrieks, looking halfway to tears and halfway to utter madness, holding the hairbrush haphazardly in one hand.

A single dark green eyebrow rises. "You," Sun-Sun tells her bluntly, careful to keep her voice perfectly neutral—no need to incite a riot, "and your hair," she elaborates, casting an eye to the tangled mass of blue black tresses.

"Go to freaking hell, damn it," Apache mutters, nightgown practically writhing with her disgruntlement.

Sun-Sun does _not_ go to Hell. Instead, she walks matter-of-factly into the bathroom and takes the white-handled hairbrush from Apache. "Sit down," she tells her firmly, pointing to the chair in the corner, "and let me do it."

For once, Apache does.


	85. To the Bedpost

**Title**: To the Bedpost**  
Characters**: Lisa, Shunsui, Nanao**  
Summary**: Memory vaults are like silk scarves to tie to the bedpost.**  
Pairings**: past Shunsui x Lisa**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: General, Angst**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga, post-Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report. Feedback would be appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 208**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

She spends her time in memory vaults and sifting through hourglasses, twirling an absent stray of hair in long, loose fingers.

Lisa left more behind than any of her fellow Vizard. The rest weren't really all that close to any but each other, but she had mortal ties in the outside world, the way they all never did.

A big man, jovial and jolly. A good man, good friend, good lover, good captain.

A little girl. One following her example. Walks in her shadow. Looks up to her almost…almost the way one would look up to a parent.

She's left them both behind.

The others act like they've only got themselves and their lives ahead of them, like there's no silk chains binding them to the past the way silk bonds tie a lover to the bedposts—_and Lisa's had plenty of experience with that._

And while they run around like crazed bumblebees, Lisa sits listless on the rail, one leg hanging off and one hand twirling absent bits of hair, wondering who Shunsui has to warm his bed now and if Nanao remembers or has managed to forget her.

She wishes she could turn back the hourglass, swing the pendulum back and have it all back again.


	86. Start to Understand

**Title**: Start to Understand**  
Characters**: Isshin, Ryuuken**  
Summary**: Isshin begins to understand.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers; rated for language**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report. Feedback would be appreciated.**  
Word Count**:141**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Go to Hell."

Isshin snorts at Ryuuken's flat, disturbingly calm voice. "Come on, kid! Damn me like you mean it!"

He watches as the college kid, barely out of his teens, rolls his eyes from down on the street, shoving his hands in his pockets. Ryuuken raises his voice a little bit. "Go. To. Hell. Better?" Sarcasm now laces the words.

"It could use a little more feeling."

At this point, something fast and silver like rainwater whizzes past Isshin's ear, a swift shaft of light in the dark.

He gapes down at Ryuuken, who is now smirking unbearably.

"I take it…" Isshin licks his lips "…I take it you did that just to show that you _could_ have snuffed me, right Ishida?"

"You're finally beginning to understand."

Yeah… Isshin's starting to understand.

He's starting to understand that Ryuuken is nuts.


	87. Lessons in Inebriation

**Title**: Lessons in Inebriation**  
Characters**: Rukia, Rangiku, Gin**  
Summary**: How to get drunk, among other things.**  
Pairings**: GinRan**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: Angst, Humor, Friendship**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Soul Society arc**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report. I just had this image of Rukia and Rangiku sitting in a bar, the former watching and taking notes. And considering how strong sake is reputed to be (I could be wrong, and if so, correct me), I think it would be very impressive that Rangiku could take three shots without getting drunk.**  
Word Count**: 296**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Rukia takes lessons on how to get drunk from Matsumoto Rangiku. She isn't under the woman's direct tutelage; she doesn't approach, and the two women never meet personally. Instead, she sits from the other end of the bar Rangiku frequents and watches the older woman drink and get drunk. It's only been a short time since Kaien died and Rukia thinks this could be a useful teaching tool to forget the smell of blood.

Of course, it doesn't happen with the first saucer of sake. Rangiku holds her liquor far too well for that. At the end of the first, and the second, and the third, she's still perfectly sober, face not even slightly dulled by drink.

It's halfway through the fourth, Rukia notices, that Rangiku's voice starts to get a little louder. Not slurred, not at all, just louder. Her laughs are louder and more piercing; her talk is looser and faster than her usual low, dulcet tones.

At the fifth, she gets a bit giddy. Nothing seems to matter as much anymore, and Rangiku loosens up and seems happier than she does in everyday life. Rukia starts to wonder exactly why _Rangiku _drinks, at the fifth shot.

Slurring comes with the sixth shot. And Rukia always waits to see what would happen at the seventh, but she never gets the chance.

At the seventh shot, like clockwork, Ichimaru Gin shows up in the bar, looking for Rangiku. Rukia suspects he has some sort of sonar that allows him to know when Rangiku's about to have one too many.

He wheedles, coaxes and sometimes outright pulls Rangiku away from the bar, one hand firmly and, Rukia notices, somewhat protectively about her shoulders, and Rukia wonders why he cares so much, and orders a shot herself.


	88. Wide Open

**Title**: Wide Open**  
Characters**: Gin, Aizen**  
Summary**: He's left himself wide open.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Arrancar and Deicide arcs**  
Timeline**: Arrancar arc**  
Author's Note**: I always wondered why Gin didn't kill Aizen on the dozens of occasions the man turned his back to him and left himself wide open.**  
Word Count**: 182**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Gin watches as Aizen walks away from the meeting with the Espada, his already squinting eyes narrowing.

They are alone, and Aizen has turned his back on his subordinate, unprotected and unsuspecting. Aizen's wide open, and he makes for a very tempting target.

Of their own accord, Gin's long spider-fingers wrap around the hilt of his Shinsou, tightening and tensing.

It would be so easy. So very easy. All he has to do is unsheathe the wakizashi and whisper the words, and Aizen would have no time to react. It would all be over.

It's so easy. It's all too easy.

And it wouldn't be satisfying enough.

Gin wants Aizen to be looking at him when he kills him. He wants to see the life leave those arrogant eyes, and he wants to see fear on his smug face, just once before he kills him.

He'll have none of that if he grants Aizen a quick, clean death from behind.

So Gin lets him go.

It would be so easy to kill Aizen this way.

But it wouldn't bring him any happiness.


	89. Mistaken Identity

**Title**: Mistaken Identity**  
Characters**: Ikkaku, Yumichika**  
Summary**: As Yumichika would like to point out, he doesn't go for men.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: Humor, Friendship**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Yumichika probably got this treatment from a _lot _of men before he became a Shinigami. I only read the manga, and _I _thought he was a woman at first.**  
Word Count**: 288**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

There's a tall woman sitting at the bar tonight, as Ikkaku makes his way inside. She has long black hair tied back and long-lashed lavender eyes. Flat-chested, but has smooth enough skin to make up for it, sipping pensively at a saucer of sake, alone at the bar.

Ikkaku's personally surprised she hasn't got men swarming around her like fruit flies, considering what sort of bar this is.

Oh, well. More for him.

"What'll you have?" the bartender asks him, wiping down a saucer with a dirty rag.

"What else is there but sake?" Ikkaku responds challengingly; he and the bartender have had this conversation before, though the latter seems to have forgotten.

The bartender gets the message and nods, handing him a fresh saucer of sake. "Let me know when you want more." He doesn't seem to have forgotten about Ikkaku's drinking habits, though. The bald man nods absently, and steals a look at the woman beside him.

She hasn't noticed his arrival, at least not outwardly; nonchalant, she sips on the sake and helps herself to a bottle behind the counter when she runs out. There's nothing wrong with her sense of boldness.

Ikkaku decides now would be a good time to say something.

"Hey." He's much better at fighting than he is at picking up women, but there's no harm in trying. "Do you want to go somewhere, after here…"

The woman turns a suddenly frigid lavender eye on him, mouth thinning into a tightly amused line. "Sorry." She has a distinctly _un_-feminine voice; Ikkaku's mouth drops open. "But I don't go for men."

Ikkaku stares at her—_him_ for a moment, before saying the only thing that seems at all appropriate.

"What the Hell!"


	90. A Burlap Sack

**Title**: A Burlap Sack**  
Characters**: Kenpachi, Yachiru, Nemu**  
Summary**: Yachiru and Nemu go "exploring".**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Kenpachi may be OOC; no spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: I can just picture Yachiru and Nemu doing this. It seems like the sort of shared activity they'd enjoy.**  
Word Count**: 156**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Hey! Where do you two think you're going?"

Kenpachi always knows Yachiru's about to get in trouble when Nemu's with her. Ironically, Mayuri thinks the same thing when he seems Yachiru with Nemu. It's probably the only thing they agree on.

Yachiru's got Nemu hauling a burlap sack over her shoulder; the girl is unnaturally strong and thus good for heavy lifting. Oh… It's never good when Yachiru's got Nemu lifting things for her.

The pink-haired girl grins and waves energetically to Kenpachi. "Hi, Ken-chan! Me and Miniskirt-chan are going exploring.

Kenpachi nods to Nemu. "What's the sack for?"

Nemu bows respectfully before answering tonelessly. "We are bringing specimens back, Zaraki-taicho."

They leave without further adieu.

And Kenpachi immediately reaches for the jar of sake under his desk.

He's going to need to be really soused not to notice the bits of blood and gore dripping from the burlap when they get back in the evening.


	91. His Women

**Title**: His Women**  
Characters**: Hitsugaya, Kira, Hinamori, Rangiku**  
Summary**: Hitsugaya disapproves of Kira.**  
Pairings**: onesided HitsuHina, onesided KiraHina, onesided KiraRan**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: This just seemed so very appealing.**  
Word Count**: 142**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Hitsugaya doesn't approve of Kira.

It's not a deep-seated dislike or even really dislike at all; Hitsugaya doesn't really have anything personal against Kira. He just disapproves of him, is all.

Kira's always around the hospital and the Fifth division, usually to talk to Hinamori; on the other hand, Matsumoto always seems to come to him.

It bugs Hitsugaya.

If he's honest, he admits that he's jealous of Hinamori and Matsumoto's company. Really, Matsumoto will go her own way no matter what someone else says and Hinamori's oblivious and Hitsugaya only has designs on the latter, but he's still jealous of keeping them close.

And Kira seems to command both their attentions.

Hitsugaya shakes his head and growls as he dips his pen in ink.

They're _his _women, and Kira can't have them.

He's just going to have to get in line.


	92. Parental Rage

**Title**: Parental Rage**  
Characters**: Isshin, Uryuu, Ichigo, Ryuuken**  
Summary**: Ryuuken made Isshin swear not to tell that story, but that doesn't seem to have stopped Isshin.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: Post-manga**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report. Just wanted to write something funny. Feedback would be appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 740**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"No, no, don't stop. I wanna hear this." Ichigo's all ears.

"So do I." So is Uryuu, his eyes gleaming with intense interest, though he takes a great deal of care not to meet his father's searing gaze.

Isshin chuckles and Ryuuken snarls and leaves the room, the door slamming behind him.

"So, anyway, Ryuuken somehow got roped into participating in a protest at the college where he was enrolled, and if I could ever get my hands on whoever roped him into it there wouldn't be enough of him to leave a smear on the floor, because you can be sure as hell your dad—" this is addressed to Uryuu, who has a bit of a smirk on his face "—didn't come up with the bright idea of participating in a protest himself."

Isshin uncorks a bottle of sake and drinks straight from the lips of the bottle, making sure the two teenagers are still all ears. They are.

"Okay, all fine and well, until the police show up to break it up. This is where things get hairy. One of them zeroes in on Ryuuken, who—and I'm just repeating now from what I was told later—lifted an arm to defend himself and, next thing he knew, the lunatic with a gun was trying to split his head open. He goes down like a stone."

A dark eye levels on Uryuu. "Enjoying yourself?"

The teenager shrugs. "Can't complain."

"Well, me and Sayuri find him at the hospital, with a concussion and barely conscious. He's being his normal charming self and he's been hand-cuffed to the bed, pending arrest for "assaulting an officer"—" Isshin rolls his eyes "—once he's released. About the only one he'd be civil to was your mother." Again addressed to Uryuu. He pauses and takes a draught of the sake.

"And then?" Ichigo waves him on, impatient.

"I was just getting to that; be patient. Then, lo and behold, Soken shows up. He was about fit to have a heart attack right there in the hospital when he saw Ryuuken."

"Wait a second," Ichigo interjects. "Who's Soken?"

"My grandfather," Uryuu mumbles.

"Oh."

"As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, Soken starts wheezing and me and Sayuri help him into a chair. He wasn't a young man—about fifty or fifty-one, at that point of time—so we had cause to be concerned.

"Well, he wasn't really having a heart attack since he stopped wheezing the moment he sat down. Instead, he put his head in his hands and just started _bawling_." Uryuu winces. "He never had a good time taking shocks like the sight of his only kid with his head all in bandages. Poor guy. I don't think it was any coincidence that there weren't any more brown hairs on his head after that day."

Isshin pauses for dramatic effect, only to have the irritated eyes of two impatient teenagers on him. "Well…the charges were dropped."

"How?"

"Well, if you would just wait, I'd tell you! Sheesh." Isshin laughs under his breath. "Truthfully… Uryuu, your granddad had a lot to do with it."

This gets a silent, curious stare from the one addressed.

"The police officer who brained Ryuuken shows up a few hours later to cart him out of there. The moment Soken finds out it was him who pretty much tried to kill his son, he just…" Isshin breaks off laughing "…he just lost it! He completely flew off the handle at the poor bastard! Started screaming at the top of his lungs! I couldn't make out half of what he was saying; I'm not even sure all of it was in Japanese."

Uryuu's eyes are by now as round as coins.

"Really hurts to have your childhood images shattered, doesn't it? Anyway, once Soken started, he really couldn't stop; waving his arms around like a maniac. It was like he was having a psychotic break or something. We were all afraid Ryuuken wasn't going to be the only one getting arrested that day.

"Anyway, the police station found that excessive force was used when subduing your dad, and they dropped the charges out of embarrassment." Isshin winks. "But in reality, I think they were just scared someone was going to sic Soken on 'em. I'm telling you, don't get between a Quincy and his child! You won't live long enough to regret it!"


	93. Close to Sentience

**Title**: Close to Sentience**  
Characters**: Ishida, Orihime**  
Summary**: He's gullible but he has his limits.**  
Pairings**: IshiHime**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: None needed**  
Author's Note**: Who else would be gullible enough to eat Orihime's food?**  
Word Count**: 280**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Ishida winces and casts a wary eye down at what Orihime seems to be calling food, stomach roiling at the very sight of it.

"Please?" Orihime asks. It's probably intentional how very wide open her eyes are. Ishida flinches at this display of feminine wiles.

"Oh, God, I…I couldn't." With any luck, there's a way out of this that doesn't involve completely trampling on Orihime's hopes and dreams.

_Right… I knew I should have updated my will this morning. Some of that looks like lethal, as in "instant kill" lethal. How does she _eat_ this stuff and not get food poisoning?_

She tilts her head in one direction, either confused or feigning confusion. "Why not? You've eaten my food before."

Yes. Not one of Ishida's better life choices. He had absolutely no idea what had possessed him to give in the first time she'd begged and begged and begged and, to his immense surprise, some of it was actually halfway decent. Of course, some of it also refused to stay quiet and had Ishida leaning down over the bathroom toilet at three in the morning, and Orihime never needed to know that.

He casts a sour look at her. "My sense of adventure when it comes to food only goes so far, Inoue-san."

"Well what's so bad about it?"

_Yeah… _Seeing that there's absolutely no way to phrase this politely, Ishida throws caution to the wind and mutters, giving the food another leery glance, "It…It looks sentient, Inoue-san. I'm not going to eat something that looks like it might try to eat me back."

It will almost be worth Orihime's reaction to have a way out of eating _this _concoction.


	94. Strange World

**Title**: Strange World**  
Characters**: Hinamori, Rangiku**  
Summary**: Neither ever talk.**  
Pairings**: onesided HinaAizen, GinRan**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Angst**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Vague spoilers**  
Timeline**: Post-Deicide arc**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report; just more Hinamori and Rangiku angst.**  
Word Count**: 216**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Rangiku's hand is warm and smooth and soothing over Hinamori's smaller, cooler one, and the fingers moving fluidly and softly over her knuckles is some small consolation, though her heart still palpitates and her eyes are still dull and blank and staring out the window.

"Hello, Hinamori." Rangiku's voice is, Hinamori notices, strangely dull, not nearly as lively or animated as it usually is. Some of the beauty has left her now, tarnished and rusting.

Rangiku doesn't say anything beyond that; she never does. She just sits, her silence so unusual that it suctions away all the air in the room.

Rangiku's become a stranger in a strange world, a world that is unrecognizable to Hinamori's dull eyes.

She hadn't been aware she'd survive being stabbed almost in the heart, and now wishes she hadn't. All the light seemed to go out when she felt cold steel sliding through her body, and as much as she tries to tell herself it's over, that it's _all _over and that she can wake up now, that it was all just a bad dream, the nightmare simply refuses to be shaken away.

Rangiku's going through the same thing.

Maybe that's why she never talks, and why Hinamori never talks to her.

They already know what the other would say.


	95. Not Guilty

**Title**: Not Guilty**  
Characters**: Kisuke, Soi Fong**  
Summary**: It's not his fault, this time.**  
Pairings**: implied KisuYorui, implied onesided Soi Fong x Yoruichi**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Am I the only one who thinks this way?**  
Word Count**: 277**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"St-stay away from Yoruichi-sama."

The poor girl… She can't even say it without stuttering, even though her eyes glitter like blue-gray chips of ice, filled with possessive poison.

Kisuke doesn't mean to be mocking when he gently asks her, "I'm sorry, Soi Fong-san, could you say that again?" but realizes that she has taken it as such when her face flushes a deep shade of scarlet and contorts with poorly-concealed loathing.

He has miscalculated.

"You slime…" Now the young girl's otherwise pretty face is utterly subsumed by her disgust and hatred and, Kisuke notices with some disquiet, envy.

_A poisonous brew, _he muses.

"Are you jealous, Soi Fong-san?" He does very much enjoy pushing all the wrong buttons, even knowing it's a bad idea, especially with this young little mistress of stealth and poisons. But Kisuke has ever been a lover of danger, a lover of taking the limits and pushing them so far back they almost fall off the edge. Just one of the many things Soi Fong hates about him.

Her icy eyes narrow, lips tightening so much that they almost cease to exist. "Stay away from her, reprobate."

"Perhaps you could get a little more creative. I would like to know _why_ you so detest my friendship with Yoruichi-san."

Soi Fong, evidently, doesn't feel the need to dignify that request with a response, as she snarls like a piece of paper ripping and stalks back off into the shadows, casting one last dark glance at him as she goes.

Kisuke only sighs, and his rueful smile is a little sad.

This time, at least, it's not his fault he's made such a virulent enemy.


	96. The Storm Passes

**Title**: The Storm Passes**  
Characters**: Shunsui**  
Summary**: He takes it all in stride.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**:**  
Word Count**: 212**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Sometimes Shunsui counts his scars, and sometimes Ukitake or Nanao count them for him. Sometimes they're lines of flesh, white and faint, just as fine as if they were brush-ink-strokes made by Nanao's capable hand, and sometimes they're puckered mountains, livid like every morning after saucer upon saucer of sake, making Shunsui wish he'd taken Nanao's advice and shown a little restraint.

And sometimes, of course, the scars are like ghosts and they simply don't show up at all.

He can take it all in stride, of course. Shunsui's had two thousand years to learn how to take it all in stride.

Every scar that goes seen and unseen is the house for a memory. And not all scars are unpleasant, either; sometimes they are just good memories that he doesn't want to quit, pleasant remembrances that do not want to die.

But some are unpleasant, and Shunsui weathers out their storms the way he does all others: with a saucer of sake and a ready laugh.

Because all scars will fade in time, Shunsui will forgive himself for all the people he couldn't save if he lives long enough, and eventually, the storm will stop, and reveal that it's morning, as golden light refracts off of raindrops condensed on the window.


	97. Ridges in the Tree

**Title**: Ridges in the Tree**  
Characters**: Nanao, Mikiko (OC)**  
Summary**: She needs glasses and doesn't know a thing about her parents.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga, pre-Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Author's Note**: Some speculation into Nanao's childhood in Rukongai.**  
Word Count**: 256**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

The tree is one that leaves Nanao's weak eyes fascinated, as small, still slightly pudgy hands roam reverently across the rough bark, wrinkled and furrowed like her grandmother's face.

Her grandmother isn't a relative of blood—Ise Mikiko adopted Nanao's father off of the streets of the seventy-sixth—which explains why they don't even bear cursory resemblances to each other.

And besides, the old woman mutters, gnarled hand clenching over her cane, Nanao more resembles her mother, anyway.

The only time Nanao has ever attempted to find out about her parents, her grandmother so effectively and brutally stonewalls her that Nanao is afraid to ask again. It upsets Mikiko, makes the furrows in her creased brow grow darker like a storm cloud.

Nanao stares up at the tree with short-sighted eyes; Mikiko keeps muttering about how Nanao needs spectacles to help her vision, but Nanao has never laid eyes on glass in her life, and she's not about to start now, so she'll likely go her whole life squinting.

"Nanao!" The sharp, slightly reedy voice is her grandmother calling from the doorless threshold of the ramshackle, decaying tenancy house they share with another family. "Come inside; it's going to rain!" The sky is a shade of gray only a few shades lighter than Mikiko's dark gray yukata or her iron gray hair, pulled back in a knob behind her head.

Bare feet hit the hard-packed earth in its drought and Nanao comes back inside.

The tree and all of her speculations will simply have to wait.


	98. Of Things Past and Things to Come

**Title**: Of Things Past and Things to Come**  
Characters**: Byakuya, Rukia**  
Summary**: There's nothing to discuss.**  
Pairings**: ByaHisa**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Soul Society arc**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report. Feedback would be appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 211**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Sometimes, one of them will wake up screaming, and the other is only left to wonder why.

Of course, the other will be attracted by the sound of shouting to bed chambers on nearly opposite ends of the Kuchiki Main household. When the servants are too frozen by fear to do anything, they will instead venture out, in a mixture of curiosity and concern, towards the other's bedchamber.

Rukia will be sitting up and gasping, small, trembling back pressed up hard against the wall. Her eyes are wild, as if seeing something else, and she shies away like a wary animal when Byakuya approaches and attempts to reach for her.

Byakuya will be sitting up too, but apart from a body drenched in icy sweat he is perfectly calm as he tells Rukia that there is nothing wrong and that she should not concern herself. He then tells her, softly but in a tone that brooks no opposition, to go back to her room, and she leaves, ducking her face from his view and looking more like Hisana than ever.

Byakuya was dreaming of Hisana.

Rukia, dreaming of the future and things she is unsure of.

Neither wish to speak of it, so neither will admit that there is anything wrong.


	99. Last Request

**Title**: Last Request**  
Characters**: Hisana**  
Summary**: She's not asking for too much, is she?**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Angst**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Soul Society arc**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report. Feedback would be appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 178**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

It's getting dark at the corners of her eyesight, and Hisana knows this will be the last time. The darkness has a soft, sweet voice, promising her eternal rest and no more pain in her chest if she'll just give herself over to it. It's tempting, it's _so _tempting, but not quite everything has been finished and Hisana, though she would love nothing more than to close her eyes, still has work that needs to be done.

Hisana has one final wish, wrapped inside of the request she puts to her husband. It's just as important as her wish for Byakuya to find Rukia, if not more so.

Last requests are horribly clichéd, but Hisana doesn't have much time, and this is important.

But then, the blanket of darkness wraps itself around her, with no consideration for Hisana's wishes or the words caught on her tongue, and she can't finish before all turns to black.

But she hopes Byakuya understands.

She just wants Byakuya and Rukia to take care of each other.

It's so little to ask for.


	100. Hold Apart

**Title**: Hold Apart**  
Characters**: Aizen, Gin**  
Summary**: It's amazing how close to a child he seems.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Vague spoilers for Deicide arc**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: 100th chapter! The party's just starting, people!**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to everyone who's reviewed so far.**  
Word Count**: 198**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Aizen watches, unworried and complacent, as the young boy sits in concentration, the only time he has ever seen Gin meditate, his wakizashi laid across his lap, the naked blade gleaming in the sunlight that pours from wide, unsheathed windows.

For once, he doesn't stiffen and stand to attention when Aizen enters the room. He knows that, when Gin does behave like that, it's out of wariness and the expectation of an attack. The boy's guilty conscience seems to be incapable of leaving him alone.

Aizen knows he'll have to kill him someday.

But not today.

For now, Gin is at his most harmless, and Aizen sees absolutely no cause to worry.

His brown eyes settle on the boy's slight, relaxed back, and he feels an emotion that is almost indulgence wash over him.

In a moment like this, the child looks almost like just that, a child. Gin almost looks like he's no more than what he appears to be.

It's amazing, how Gin almost looks completely unthreatening, almost appears to be nothing more than a harmless child.

Almost.

Aizen reminds himself that he'll have to kill Gin someday, in order to keep himself from growing attached.


	101. Between a Rock and a Hard Place

**Title**: Between a Rock and a Hard Place**  
Characters**: Ryuuken, Uryuu**  
Summary**: Ishida gets sick.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Family**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report.**  
Word Count**: 159**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Ryuuken sighs as he holds the thermometer up to the light. The shivering three-year-old, wrapped in a blanket on his lap coughs as if to reiterate the point.

"Well, congratulations," he tells Uryuu sarcastically. "You are officially running a fever of a one hundred and one point five." More to himself than Uryuu, he groans, "Why does this happen every winter?"

The looks Uryuu casts up at him while coughing again says, quite clearly, '_This isn't my fault!_'. As if he needs to be worried about his father blaming him for getting ill again.

Ryuuken puts a hand on top of the toddler's head and places the thermometer back on the table. "I know it's not your fault," and Uryuu relaxes a bit. "I'm going to get the cough syrup."

"But that tastes awful!"

"It's either that or you'll be awake all night, coughing."

As much as Uryuu would want to, he can't readily agree with logic like that.


	102. They Don't Know

**Title**: They Don't Know**  
Characters**: Sun-Sun, Apache, Mila-Rose, Harribel**  
Summary**: Sun-Sun watches them while they sleep.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: Pre-Hueco Mundo arc**  
Author's Note**: Thanks to the new databook, we're getting names for the Espada and their Fracción that have spellings completely different from what I've read in the manga. Naturally, I am going to disregard this, the same way I'm going to disregard that Soi Fong is apparently now spelled "Suì-Fēng".**  
Word Count**: 256**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Sun-Sun listens to the breaths and heartbeats of her fellow Fracción and her mistress when they sleep. She herself doesn't need half as much sleep as the others and can easily sit up, watching carefully for intruders (One never knows in Hueco Mundo).

Apache doesn't quite snore, but the whistling sound that comes from her mouth when she sleeps is very close to snoring. Sun-Sun's amazed it hasn't woken Mila-Rose up.

The smallest of the Fracción of Tia Harribel somehow still seems belligerent, even when she sleeps. Her face still has frown lines on the brow and around the mouth—Apache looks like she could hop up and brawl at any moment.

Mila-Rose is somewhat calmer. While Apache sleeps, spread-eagle, on her back, Mila-Rose sleeps propped on her side, long brown hair falling over her shoulder. She is tense like Apache but calmer, her light sleep deeper and less troubled.

Sun-Sun starts to feel fatigued herself; it must be after midnight, and she does need sleep, even if not as much as the others. They all run such strange schedules that sometimes steady sleep is all but impossible.

They've not been here long, but Sun-Sun feels as though she's gone to sleep in this bed for every night since her soul chain eroded and she became a Hollow.

Her eyes don't fall on Harribel, whose outline can be seen in the pitch dark through the open door to the other, slightly smaller room.

It would be disrespectful, even sacrilegious, to observe her mistress while she sleeps.


	103. Game Preferences

**Title**: Game Preferences**  
Characters**: Orihime, Sun-Sun, Apache, Mila-Rose, Harribel**  
Summary**: If Orihime had been put with different jailers.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Hueco Mundo arc**  
Timeline**: Hueco Mundo arc**  
Author's Note**: Orihime would have ended up with Harribel and her Fracción if Aizen had had any sense to the sort of…_problems_ that crop up when an attractive girl is put with a male jailer (Aizen and Kubo didn't notice, but boy, the fandom did; my God), I'm sure of it. Not to mention it gives me a good story idea.**  
Word Count**: 507**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Orihime-san, you can sit down, you know."

In the end, the four of them decided that it would be better to have Orihime confined to their quarters and simply clear off the couch to have her sleep on it instead of confining her to a cell nowhere near their apartments.

It's the one with long green hair—Sun-Sun; they've all introduced themselves by now—who addresses Orihime, staring up at her from the couch with a hand pressed up to her mouth to hide her teeth.

Apache and Mila-Rose are playing Go on the floor, legs folded beneath them and occasionally uttering the most vile epithets—Apache's tended to be more vehement than Mila-Rose's—when a turn doesn't go their way. Harribel sits in an arm chair to the side, watching in indulgent incuriosity.

Sun-Sun, from her perch on the far left hand side of the deep, plump-cushioned couch—it will prove to be a comfortable place to sleep, Orihime has to give it that—pats the area to her right and gestures with her head for Orihime to sit down there.

Fidgeting with the end of her skirt, wary and admittedly painfully homesick, Orihime stares at the couch like it's a poisonous snake—and Sun-Sun more than fits the bill for that, just looking at her, long, sinuous creature—before Sun-Sun's rose pink eyes register muted annoyance and Orihime steps around the two Arrancar on the floor to sit down on the couch beside Sun-Sun, casting cautious glances in the direction of the olive-haired Arrancar.

The tall girl can't fail to notice, a small sound suspiciously like a derisive laugh emanating from her soft white sleeve. "Honestly, Orihime-san, you act like I'm going to eat you." The irony can't fail to strike Orihime. "You can relax. None of us are going to hurt you."

This doesn't give Orihime a great deal of comfort, but she does sink back into the soft cushion of the back of the couch, and Sun-Sun gives a fraction of a nod, perhaps approving.

Orihime watches the two Fracción play for a few minutes, silent and withdrawn, occasionally stealing glances towards Harribel when she can feel her dark green eyes on her.

"Mila-Rose usually wins at this point," Sun-Sun leans over to whisper in Orihime's ear.

Sure enough, there's renewed cursing from Apache as Mila-Rose leans back and smirks.

"Damn it, Mila-Rose! You're cheating! I don't know how, but you are!"

Apache proceeds to fling the board against the wall, sending black and white chips.

"You're going to have to pick that up, Apache," Harribel tells her calmly.

Grumbling, Apache does.

"Apache does better at shogi, but Mila-Rose excels at Go," Sun-Sun observes.

Orihime feels compelled to make a remark at this, feeling slightly more comfortable now that she's seen that, for all that they're Hollows, the Fracción of Tia Harribel are normal people. "And you, Sun-Sun-san?" she asks, managing a tremulous smile.

Rose pink eyes turn on her, inscrutable and even. "Mahjong," Sun-Sun answers. "But we don't have a set here."


	104. Notes from the Dead

**Title**: Notes from the Dead**  
Characters**: Ichigo, Rukia**  
Summary**: The paper wasn't there before.**  
Pairings**: IchiRuki**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Angst, Friendship**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Vague spoilers for Deicide arc**  
Timeline**: post-chapter 423**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report. Feedback would be greatly appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 140**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

The scrap of paper stuck to the window hadn't been there before.

Ichigo immediately retreats to his room when he gets him and his dad, sensing, for once, that he needs his space, keeps away and keeps Karin and Yuzu from knocking on the door and demand to know what's going on, perhaps sensing the change in their older brother.

Isshin's actually behaving reasonably for once. In a dull sort of way, Ichigo's grateful.

The only thing there seems to do is sleep and maybe forget all of this ever happened, if only for a few hours, until he catches sight of the paper, stark white against the dark window.

Curious, Ichigo takes it from the window and holds it to the light, frowning.

_Hang in there, idiot. I'll find a way to get back with you._

_Rukia_

Ichigo smiles.


	105. Turn Away

**Title**: Turn Away**  
Characters**: citizens of Inuzuri, Hisana, Rukia**  
Summary**: Fight for yourself.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Angst**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report. Feedback would be appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 254**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

No one in Inuzuri takes too much stock of the girl who's appeared suddenly—no doubt a new arrival—from the woods with a squalling infant in her arms.

Her eyes bear into their skins desperately, but they simply turn their eyes away and pretend not to hear her. This is the basin of Rukongai, where all the flotsam turns up; the denizens have their own concerns to think about before they can assist anyone else.

There's still a bite of winter in the air, though there's no more snow. They have to think about planting crops and getting out wares to their ramshackle, run-down shops.

No one really cares about a young mother and her screaming brat; just too more to add to the great stew of human filth and suffering. No one cares about them, so why should they care about anyone but themselves?

She begs in the street and is lucky to get so much as a scrap of bread from day to day, always with her baby in her arms.

The only comment they make is to tell her to shut her brat up.

She gets thinner and thinner (not that she seemed very well fed to begin with), giving virtually all of the food to the baby.

Then, it is Spring, the weather warm and mild.

And one day, the baby's screaming, and her mother's nowhere to be found.

Nothing's done and the denizens all turn their eyes away.

Out here, one fights for themselves, and no one else.


	106. He's Going to Regret It

**Title**: He's Going to Regret It**  
Characters**: Hitsugaya, Rangiku**  
Summary**: "You don't really seem up to the job."**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Speculation is contained within. Read at your own discretion.**  
Word Count**: 306**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"My concern," newly minted Hitsugaya-taicho murmurs from across his desk, "is that you hardly seem like the responsible sort."

He shouldn't have to be asking these questions. Matsumoto Rangiku has been taking care of the Tenth division for the best part of six years since the old taicho _vanished_—and Hitsugaya's very interested in finding out exactly what happened; he likes his job, thank you very much, but Hitsugaya considers it a matter of duty—and since the division's hasn't blown up or anything Hitsugaya can assume she's done a decent job, but somehow, she's not his vision of what a competent administrator should be.

The tall blonde leans back in the chair opposite him, smiling slightly. "I'm hurt, Hitsugaya-taicho. I wasn't aware that attempting to alienate your immediate subordinate was a wise practice."

Turquoise eyes sear into Rangiku's skull. "Have you conducted any investigations at all into the disappearance of the previous captain of this division?"

She grimaces. "Yes, several. The best we could determine was that taicho was last seen in a place on Earth called Karakura Town, then vanished. We never found any sign of him after that. I had to call the hounds off after the first few months; the division was—_is _—undermanned, and I needed all the warm bodies I could get."

Hitsugaya nods somewhat grudgingly; he can see the sense in that. "Okay. How do you feel about paperwork, Matsumoto?"

Her hand waves in the air. "I _hate_ it; I'll never understand how taicho was able to sit down and do all of that nasty stuff."

At this, Hitsugaya sighs. He knows he can't get rid of her—he needs someone experienced to support him in this—but if she's not willing to do any of the work, he thinks he's going to regret agreeing to fill this position.


	107. Right to Privacy

**Title**: Right to Privacy**  
Characters**: Lisa, Shinji**  
Summary**: Where did she get that scar?**  
Pairings**: slightly suggested Shinji x Lisa; could easily be read as platonic**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga, post-Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Author's Note**: This is sort of a spiritual successor to _Haircut_, which takes place earlier in the collection; this takes place, chronologically, just after _Haircut_.**  
Word Count**: 418**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

The fact that they share a hotel room doesn't lend itself to much privacy, not that Lisa has a great deal of shame to begin with—she's comfortable with herself and that's what she tells everyone else—but Shinji always tries to avert his eyes when she's changing her clothes.

She's his friend; they're of an age. It's only common courtesy.

He doesn't quite turn his eyes away quickly enough tonight and catches sight of something that surprises him.

There's a clean line of a scar, thick and puckered, over Lisa's left breast and below the collarbone, just over her heart. She pulls her undergarments and shirt back on quickly and doesn't seem to have noticed that Shinji's eyes have wandered.

Shinji wonders where she got that scar.

Shinji and Lisa were in the Academy together; she's much older than the impression that she gives the Vizard. They graduated together, were originally in the same division, and when the conflict with the Quincy came to a head, they found themselves fighting side by side—And their opinions on that still differ wildly. Shinji sees it as being something that simply had to be done, whether he liked it or not, but Lisa's conscience is the sort that won't let her go, has never let her go. She drops off of the radar for several decades after that and only shows up some eighty years later, strong-arming Shinji to get her a place in the Eighth division.

Point of the matter is, Shinji feels that if Lisa has a scar anywhere on her body, he ought to know where it came from.

"Lisa?"

"Hmm…"

Shinji, from his position reclining on the other bed, frowns at her as she sits on the edge of her bed and brushes her hair, resisting the urge to reach for his own freshly-shorn locks. "Where'd you get that scar?" He taps his chest, feeling for the place that he thinks his heart is underneath.

She pauses, lets the brush rest on her bare knees, never looking at Shinji. "You were peeking, weren't you?" Only Lisa can say something like that in complete monotone.

"It was an accident!" Shinji defends himself hastily. More calmly, he asks, "Seriously, where did that scar come from?"

Lisa's mouth forms a thin line. She still refuses to make eye contact with Shinji. "That's something I'd rather keep to myself."

"Wow…I wasn't aware there were secrets between us." His tone is only half-joking.

"Then I'm glad we cleared that up."


	108. Your Responsibility, and Yours Alone

**Title**: Your Responsibility, and Yours Alone**  
Characters**: Shunsui, Lisa, Nanao**  
Summary**: Only the captain is supposed to do the captain's paperwork.**  
Pairings**: No pairings**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Vague spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga, circa-Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Author's Note**: Lisa probably handled Shunsui a bit more calmly than Nanao, don't you think? Lisa just seems infinitely more laid-back than her successor. And if anything like this ever happened it would probably be a good explanation as to why Nanao has virtually no patience where her captain is concerned.**  
Word Count**: 144**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"You have to do your own paperwork," Lisa tells him calmly. "I've already done mine; I don't want you shunting your load off on me."

"Lisa…"

"No."

Lisa is done for the day, lounging at her leisure at her desk. And Lisa being done means Nanao's done too; the little girl is sitting at a window seat, brow furrowed as she pores over a word puzzle.

When Shunsui drinks in the sight of the other occupant of his lieutenant's office, an idea pops into his head and he smiles.

"Hey, Nanao-chan, how do you feel about extra-curricular activities?"

"Leave her alone, Shunsui," Lisa calls out in monotone.

"What? I was just asking!" Shunsui exclaims, indignant.

"Your paperwork is _your_ paperwork. It's not her job to do it; if you try to hand it all off on her, I'm going to have to hurt you."


	109. Doesn't Bear Repeating

**Title**: Doesn't Bear Repeating**  
Characters**: Unohana, Isane, Mayuri**  
Summary**: "I'm not entirely sure what was so necessary about the muzzle."**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report, except that I really, really hate Mayuri. Feedback would be appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 223**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Unohana eyes the fiercely glaring—as fiercely glaring as anyone sedated can—Shinigami strapped to the bed with her usual unruffled serenity then turns her gaze to her still-fuming, heavily ruffled lieutenant.

"May I ask, Isane," she murmurs pleasantly, "what happened here?"

Isane is too furious to quail away at her captain's tone. She instead gestures to Mayuri who only snarls back. "Kurotsuchi-taicho was—again—trying to bully the patients on the second floor into volunteering to undergo experiments. When I asked him to leave the first time, he ignored me. The second time, he was recalcitrant. The third time, he was violent. For the safety of my patients I was obligated to restrain and subdue him!"

The captain nods, understanding, and smiles down into Mayuri's furious gold eyes. He shudders.

"Then I understand, Isane, that sedating him and strapping him to a hospital bed were probably necessary." Unohana raises an eyebrow quizzically. "Though I must say, I'm a little confused as to why you seem to have muzzled him."

It's certainly the only reason Mayuri's been so silent as Unohana's inspected him.

The lieutenant's face tints red. "He was quite mouthy, taicho. Some of the things he said to me don't bear repeating. I didn't think it right that he still be able to disturb the patients."

"Ah. That makes perfect sense."


	110. Unohana's Definition of Wariness

**Title**: Unohana's Definition of Wariness**  
Characters**: Unohana, the Vizard**  
Summary**: She has a new meaning for the word.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Vague spoilers for Deicide arc**  
Timeline**: While Unohana's healing Hiyori.**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report. I would love to hear back from you guys, though.**  
Word Count**: 154**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Unohana has, naturally, had her share of wary patients. She does not know why the human psyche contains within an inborn fear of doctors, but is more than aware that it does, at times, make working with patients a challenge in itself.

Wariness is when the patients look at her like she's about to poison them.

Wariness is when little kids tear down the halls to get away from her and have to be caught and carried, kicking and screaming, back by Isane.

Wariness is Kira Izuru, Hisagi Shuuhei, and Hinamori Momo when Unohana calls them all into her office after the departure of their captains, to evaluate them psychologically.

But when she feels the eyes of the other Vizard on her, sharp, keen and unblinking as she plies her hands to the separated parts of Sarugaki Hiyori, Unohana has a new definition for wariness.

And given the circumstances, she can't say she's surprised.


	111. Staging Ground

**Title**: Staging Ground**  
Characters**: Tousen, Gin, Aizen**  
Summary**: Hueco Mundo means different things to different people.**  
Pairings**: No pairings**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: General spoilers**  
Timeline**: Post-Soul Society arc**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report. Feedback would be appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 252**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Hueco Mundo is to Tousen just another place. Being blind he takes little interest in the geographical particulars of his surroundings; there's just no point.

It is different though. There's sand blowing in his face instead of just the soft wind and occasional leaf in Soul Society. It's always a little chilly whereas Soul Society would have been quite warm at this time of year, and bone dry in contrast to the constantly rainy Soul Society.

To Tousen, Hueco Mundo is an alien place, not particularly interesting, but noticeable in its differences from the place he, up to so recently, called home.

Gin sees Hueco Mundo as a hiding place, as a staging ground for his plans.

He scopes out his surroundings, searches out every alcove, every stairwell, every shadowy corridor that isn't on the map of Las Noches, in order to have a place to hide and plan his escape if things go wrong. Otherwise, it's a cache for ideas, for dark shadows, to let his ideas metastasize and take shape in earnest.

It's a means to an end, a chink in the plans that will simply become an asset if he tries hard enough.

Aizen sees Hueco Mundo as something else entirely.

From this world, he has the end of all things opposing him in sight. From this world he has a near-impregnable stronghold. From this world, he will assemble his army.

To Aizen, Hueco Mundo is nothing more than a resource to be used until it is bled dry.


	112. A Friendly Visit

**Title**: A Friendly Visit**  
Characters**: Nanao, Yachiru**  
Summary**: She's being pseudo-robbed again.**  
Pairings**: No pairings**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Can't you just imagine Yachiru doing something like this?**  
Word Count**: 136**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Sometimes, Nanao wakes up in the middle of the night, thinking she's being robbed. She'll hear sounds out of the dark corners of her room, and the sliding will be thrown open, the burgundy curtains flowing in the wind.

For a few moments, Nanao will sit bolt upright, hair falling over her eyes—darting around the shadows and waiting for someone or something to lunge out at her—and heart pounding, hands itching for her glasses and the light switch by the door.

Then she stops, and relaxes, falling back onto the bed.

The shuffling sound in the corner usually stops quickly enough. It's only occasionally that Nanao wakes up in the morning to find that she's not alone in her bed.

There's nothing to be worried about.

It's just Yachiru exploring in the dark again.


	113. Another Point for Her Side

**Title**: Another Point for Her Side**  
Characters**: Shunsui, Nanao, Juushiro**  
Summary**: Why Shunsui needs to do his paperwork.**  
Pairings**: slight Shunsui x Nanao, slight Ukitake x Nanao**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: You guys are going to love this one, I feel just like. Let me know if you feel differently.**  
Word Count**: 455**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

When Nanao's eyes get that evil little glint in them is when Shunsui really starts to regret asking her why on earth he should concern himself with doing paperwork. Juushiro, of course, sitting in a chair pressed up against the wall, only laughs softly between coughs.

Shunsui glares sourly at him; if Juushiro was a real friend, he would have warned him.

Nanao, standing in front of the couch Shunsui's lounging on, smiles coolly. "I'm glad you asked, Kyouraku-taicho."

She ticks off the points on her fingers. "First of all, our taxes are due to be filed in a month. As chief executive and financial officer of the Eighth division, you are the only officer in this division with the authority to file the Eighth division's taxes. I know I'm better at math but I simply don't have the seniority to do your job in this case." Nanao's voice is sickly sweet, her smile all too innocent.

"Second, I have paperwork of my own to do, paperwork that is just as important as yours. If I am stuck doing your paperwork as well as mine, I make…" she pauses significantly "…certain errors that could put the future of this division in doubt." The suggestive lift of her eyebrows lets Shunsui get the message, loud and clear.

He winces. Evidently, blackmail _isn't_ a dirty word to Ise Nanao.

Juushiro chuckles from the other side of the room. "That's one point for her side," he mumbles.

Nanao isn't done yet. "Third, I feel it sets a bad precedent for the lower ranking officers if the captain is unwilling to fulfill his duties. Soon enough, we'll have an entire division where absolutely nothing is done and nothing is accomplished and, within time, there will be nothing left of the Eighth division at all. I will not allow that to happen."

Now, her smile—she's smiling a great deal more often today, Shunsui notices, but the effect isn't its usual charming self—is absolutely predatory. Nanao's voice is very sweet as she doles out her final reason for him to do the paperwork. "Finally, Kyouraku-taicho, you will do your paperwork because I say so."

Smugness radiates off of Nanao at dangerous levels; if the radiation gets any worse Shunsui thinks he'll start choking.

"And another point for her side," Juushiro notes helpfully, eyes twinkling.

Shunsui groans, and gets up. She's really not going to let off at this point.

Nanao smiles prettily at Juushiro. "Thank you very much for your support, Ukitake-taicho; it was most helpful."

This is the point where Shunsui starts to feel a headache coming on, and reaches for the flask hidden in his kimono, only to have it snatched away by Nanao.

"Paperwork, taicho. _Now_."


	114. No Sense of Timing

**Title**: No Sense of Timing**  
Characters**: Rangiku, Gin**  
Summary**: Sometimes, Gin really pushes his luck.**  
Pairings**: GinRan**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Humor, Romance**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: To **JaKiwi**, yes, you are the 200th reviewer.**  
Word Count**: 146**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Rangiku waits, growing impatient and fanning herself with her silk paper fan—it's very hot in this deep summer, and she would like to get a move on.

_Where is he?_

Better yet, why is Gin _always _late to _everything_?

_I really need to buy that man a wrist watch for his birthday._

"Hello, Rangiku."

She whirls around glaring. "There you are! Gin, you were supposed to be here nearly an hour ago! I thought you'd stood me up or something."

Gin's smile only widens at the thought. "Well, O ye of little faith, I'm here _now_, aren't I?"

Rangiku can't help but roll her eyes as she grabs his wrist and starts to move forward. "Yes, you're here. You're here an hour late. Now come on. I want to get on before the dinner crowd moves in earnest."

"Okay, okay! I'll hurry; just let go!"


	115. Vacation Time

**Title**: Vacation Time**  
Characters**: Soi Fong, Rangiku, Nanao**  
Summary**: Soi Fong worked hard for this vacation time.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report. Feedback would be appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 140**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Soi Fong is perfectly serene as she, with meticulous care, wipes blood off of Suzumebachi with a rag. Perched in the crook of a tree bough she observes the world below her without a care.

Until…

"Soi Fong? Soi Fong!"

Rangiku and Nanao look a little like ants, standing as far below as they are. Nanao folds her arms close about her while Rangiku cups her hands around her mouth and shouts. "Soi Fong, come on down! Your division is starting to get worried!"

"No way!" she crows. "I am having too much fun up here!"

"But it's been three days!" Now it's Nanao calling, slightly despairing. "Quit spearing innocent little forest animals on your zanpakuto and come back to Seireitei before the Second division collapses completely!"

Soi Fong groans.

Why does vacation time have to be over so quickly?


	116. Breaking Curfew

**Title**: Breaking Curfew**  
Characters**: Shunsui, Nanao**  
Summary**: Sneaking back at three in the morning again.**  
Pairings**: none**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Humor, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Okay, I am officially accepting requests again; I have my reasons. However, there are certain things I won't accept, among them slash of any kind (not against it, just completely incapable of writing it) and M-rated scenes, explicit sexual situations in particular. I reserve the right to reject your request and, if I do accept it, to utterly twist it to my vision of what it should be. As long as you all understand that, we will get along perfectly.**  
Word Count**: 262**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

If Shunsui had half a say in this at all, he wouldn't be sneaking back into the Eighth division at three in the morning, hoping Nanao doesn't catch him. He would be _parading _back into the Eighth division at three in the morning, and he wouldn't care if Nanao saw him.

But sadly, such is the fate of a captain with a scary lieutenant.

Thankfully, all is quiet as he passes through; Shunsui's not used to being this quiet, but fortunately he paid attention in the Academy when he was being taught stealth, if only because there was a bathhouse he wanted to "visit" (He's since grown out of peeping). Nanao doesn't seem to have posted lookouts this time.

Shunsui can see his office door; it's the home stretch. The want to move openly nearly overwhelms him but he remembers himself and continues to be careful, moving slowly and quietly, pressing open the door gently.

It's not locked, but he never locks his door, so that's not a concern.

Shunsui sighs in relief when he views the dark contours of his office. He's safe.

Then, his blood runs cold as the lights turn on and his desk chairs swings round to reveal Nanao sitting in it. The look on her face is deceptively calm.

"Good morning, taicho," she greets him with a veneer of cheer that has an edge sharp as diamond hidden beneath. "Why don't you sit down and explain to me exactly why you haven't returned until now."

Shunsui knew he should have gone straight to bed.

He _knew_ it.


	117. All Riled Up

**Title**: All Riled Up**  
Characters**: Shinji, Urahara, Hiyori**  
Summary**: Urahara sighed. Shinji might be the one who got Hiyori upset but _he_ was the one who had to deal with her later.**  
Pairings**: slight Shinji x Hiyori**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Timeline**: Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Author's Note**: To **Ayase Reincarnated**, here is the drabble you requested. As stated in the last chapter, requests are again open, though there are conditions that should be observed.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **Ayase Reincarnated**, who suggested this.**  
Word Count**: 345**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"You let her get away with that sort of stuff?" Shinji throws his thumb over his shoulder towards Hiyori who sticks her tongue out obscenely and continues filling out her paperwork, occasionally muttering to herself.

Urahara only shrugs slightly to Shinji's, who's lounging indolently on the couch in the Twelfth division's captain's office. "I don't really see that it makes much of a difference if Hiyori chooses to attach an honorific to my name or not," he asserts mildly.

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here!"

Coincidentally, both Shinji and Urahara ignore her, though an evil catty grin breaks across Shinji's large mouth at the thought of Hiyori getting riled up. "Granted, she's always called me Shinji. It would seem right if she suddenly started calling me Hirako-taicho."

"Maybe I should then."

Shinji and Hiyori do enjoy baiting each other, Urahara notices, though Shinji's better at ignoring it.

The long-haired man ignores her nonchalantly and keeps going. "But Kisuke, you're Hiyori's direct superior; she ought to accord _you_ some respect, at least."

"Go to Hell, Shinji," Hiyori spits from across the room. Shinji ignores her though his smile grows a little wider.

Urahara smiles gently. "I don't think I can ask Hiyori to call me Urahara-taicho if I can't command her respect. It makes no difference to me what I am called by my subordinates."

Shinji's face is dangerously bland and reasonable as he goes on. "I know that, but it just sets a bad precedent."

He goes on, growing increasingly bland until Hiyori can't stand to listen to him anymore.

Hiyori stands up, plucks a heavy book up in her hand and unceremoniously lobs it at Shinji's head.

Shinji proceeds to tear out of the office cackling, Hiyori close behind, screaming bloody murder.

For a moment, there is naught but silence.

Then, Urahara sighs wearily from behind his desk.

They're both older than him but they're both so much like children at times.

And while Shinji might be the one who upsets Hiyori, Urahara's the one who has to deal with her later.


	118. Still Waiting

**Title**: Still Waiting**  
Characters**: Nanao, Gin, Rangiku (in spirit), and vague, vague allusion to Lisa near the end**  
Summary**: Waiting for Rangiku is best done as a group activity.**  
Pairings**: vague hinting at GinRan**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: Post-Turn Back the Pendulum arc, pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: This can be seen as a companion piece to _Cohesion_; also, this was suggested by **Nicky Eira**, so big thanks in that direction. I feel I should inform you, though, that the one pairing I won't break up is GinRan, so no Gin x Nanao out of me; sorry.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **Nicky Eira** for suggesting this.**  
Word Count**: 275**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

They don't normally usually spend much time around each other, but waiting for Rangiku to get back from an errand is best performed as a group activity, and both Gin and Nanao are getting impatient—not to mention worried, though neither will ever express that worry and hide it in different ways.

"She's always awful about getting back late," Nanao grumbles, slouching against the wall, thin, tiny shoulders slumping, which only serves to make her seem even smaller.

Gin shoots a sharp glance at the girl, then nods. "Rangiku can't claim to be very punctual." He laughs ruefully. "Truth be told, I make the same mistake."

"Oh, _really_?" The sarcasm is self-evident in Nanao's voice and Gin raises his hands, palms showing towards her, in an act of mock-defense.

"Hey, can I help it if I have no sense of timing?"

"Yes, actually, you can."

Gin shoots a wide, vitriolic grin at her; Nanao raises an eyebrow sullenly. "Whatever."

The sun's going down, and Nanao swings her legs to and fro like a child on a swing. Gin, on the other hand, stares down the path alertly.

Nanao takes notice of this and her face glazes inscrutably. "Worried?" she asks quietly, voice unreadable.

"Very." Gin is unambiguous with this. "And you?"

She shrugs uncomfortably, not making eye contact. "Yes, of course I am." Her eyes hit the ground. "But we wait. All we can do is wait." The girl's voice is so soft it's barely audible. "Matsumoto-san will be back eventually. She always is."

Gin wonders if Nanao's still waiting, but decides not to ask.

He can read her posture, and see that she is.


	119. Letters from Paris

**Title**: Letters from Paris**  
Characters**: Rose, Lisa**  
Summary**: Why won't you answer me?**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Angst, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Timeline**: Post-Turn Back the Pendulum arc, pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Okay, I don't write Rose very well, so I decided to make this drabble a series of letters instead.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **Ayase Reincarnated** for the idea.**  
Word Count**: 351**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

_Lisa,_

_If you're wondering (since you talked about going to Paris before), no, the travel brochures did __not__ lie to you (why are you so paranoid about that?): Paris is beautiful this time of year, and I'm having a wonderful time among my fellow musicians. My French is getting better._

_You didn't answer my last letter so I'm just going to assume it got lost in the mail (I can see why someone would be paranoid about __that__ happening). I hope you get this letter soon, and please answer this time._

_Rose_

_._

_Lisa,_

_Again, you have not answered; I'm starting to get a little worried. I know you got my letter, since Shinji wrote me recently and he said you read it._

_It's raining right now; I hate how much Paris looks like home when it rains. But then again, home isn't home anymore, so let's just say I hate how much it looks like Seireitei when it rains._

_Hopefully, by the time you get this letter, it will sunny again._

_Rose_

_._

_Lisa,_

_Lisa, I don't understand why you won't answer my letters. I know you can be… querulous at times, but this is just ridiculous. It's been three months since I started writing; you've had more than enough time to write back._

_Is this about what I asked you just before I left? I didn't think I'd upset you __that__ much._

_It was just a question, Lisa, just a simple question. All I asked you was if you missed someone back in Soul Society; you don't have to stop talking to me just because I hit a nerve._

_Please write back to me soon._

_Your wounded friend,_

_Rose_

.

Lisa sighs, as always, when she reads Rose's letter. It's dark outside, and the little hotel room is dimly lit and sparsely furnished.

Her pen hovers over a piece of smooth white paper for a moment, and she hesitates.

Lisa considers writing back this time, but stops herself before she can put pen to paper, and slides the letter in her suitcase, along with the others, to be forgotten.


	120. Bed Sheet Ghost

**Title**: Bed Sheet Ghost**  
Characters**: Ishida, Rukia**  
Summary**: It's missing something.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Humor, Friendship**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Halloween drabble; after _Willow_ I wanted to write something more lighthearted.**  
Word Count**: 211**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Ishida can almost laugh when he sees her, but doesn't, knowing that he'll do much better if his tongue _hasn't_ been ripped out of his skull.

"Okay, I get the whole "Trick or Treating" bit. You go up to somebody's house, ask them to give you candy and if they don't, you throw eggs at their house or something, but how on Earth—" Rukia huffs "—am I supposed to "Trick or Treat" if I can't see anything?"

Ishida can guess Rukia's glaring at him now, but he can't really tell since the sheet over her head has no eyes cut for holes.

It's understandable why she might forget this crucial aspect, considering it's the first time she's ever experienced Halloween, but it is also painfully amusing, in every way.

He tries not to sound too amused as he explains. "You need eye and arm holes for the bed sheet, Kuchiki-san. Hand it over; I've got scissors in the back."

"…Oh." Rukia sounds like she's embarrassed she didn't realize this before as she whips the sheet off her head and hands it to Ishida. "Why didn't Ichigo tell me that?"

Probably because he wanted to see Rukia walk into street lamps and other people, but Ishida doesn't tell her that.


	121. The Broom is Not Enough

**Title**: The Broom is Not Enough**  
Characters**: Jinta, Yachiru**  
Summary**: The broom won't work.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: To **Blueberry Absinth**, here's the drabble you requested.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **Blueberry Absinth**.**  
Word Count**: 184**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Jinta has absolutely no idea who this manic, pink-haired Shinigami girl is but he does know that he wants her out of the shop and that the broom he's trying to swat her with is having absolutely no effect at all.

"Get the hell out!" Why Urahara, Tessai and Ururu all had to go out at the same time Jinta will never know. Any one of them could have gotten rid of her in an instant, but Jinta can only chase her with a broom.

"Wheeeeee!" The girl shrieks, and Jinta wonders if she's tired at all. He's nearly out of breath; it would be mightily inconvenient if she continued to bounce off the walls after he was ready to drop.

But, mercifully, the girl starts to get bored, and eventually opens a window that Jinta can't get to, waving.

"Bye-bye. It was fun playing! I'll come back tomorrow."

And she's gone.

_Tomorrow…_ Jinta flinches.

He spends about a minute flat on his back and spread-eagle, panting, before wearily hauling himself to his feet and starting to lock the windows and deadbolt the doors.


	122. Isane's Work List

**Title**: Isane's Work List**  
Characters**: Unohana, Isane**  
Summary**: Unohana can't resist reading.**  
Pairings**: No pairings**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: To **capslock-nanao**, here is your drabble; Isane didn't feature as large in it as I would have hoped, but I think it carries her presence all the same.**  
Dedication**: For **capslock-nanao** for suggesting an Isane drabble.**  
Word Count**: 167**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Unohana sighs when she notices Isane's work list left out on her desk, plucking it up in her hands. It's written in Isane's tidy script. Curiosity grips Unohana and she sits down at Isane's chair to read it.

_Kotetsu Isane's To-Do List for November 2:_

_1. Re-organize the texts on ulcerative colitis._

_2. Guest-teach a lesson on healing kido for some of the new recruits._

_3. Tell Iemura that if I catch him slacking off on duty again I'm going to have to smack him._

_4. Make sure Kiyone isn't spitting out the antibiotics for her flu virus again._

_5. Make the rounds of the hospital and greet Kurotsuchi-taicho in his room and tell him that, No, he can __not__ leave yet. Not until his fractured ribs heal and he's learned a little politeness._

Unohana smiles at the first two and the fourth and ignores the other two, folding the list and tucking it securely into her obi.

Isane will want this.

She's probably in the library.


	123. I Don't Wanna Know

**Title**: I Don't Wanna Know**  
Characters**: Isane, Kiyone, Yachiru**  
Summary**: She finds them under the desk.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report. Feedback would be appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 140**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Isane can hear them giggling, of course; she's not deaf, and she can hear things on the ground perfectly even if she is a long way up from the ground.

The sounds are coming from under her desk.

Isane sighs and gets down on her knees.

"Hello, Kiyone. Hello, Kusajishi-fukutaicho."

Personally, she wasn't even aware Kiyone and Yachiru were friends.

Kiyone, at least, has the grace to look sheepish. "Hello, neesan."

Yachiru…

"Hi, Isa!"

…Not so much.

Isane frowns bemusedly. "What are you two doing down there?"

"Well, I—"

That's when Isane starts to hear a man screaming from outside in the hall. She glares suspiciously down at the two of them, then just sighs. "Whatever it is you two did to Iemura, I don't want to know. Just scoot over so I can get down there with you."


	124. Asking For It

**Title**: Asking For It**  
Characters**: Uryuu, Ryuuken**  
Summary**: "Come on, surprise me."**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Angst**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline necessary; during training, I guess**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report here. I just had the image in my head and decided to write a story surrounding it.**  
Word Count**: 248**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Are you even trying?"

No answer.

"Come on, surprise me."

At this point, Uryuu just decides to throw caution to the winds and surmise that his father's really asking for it.

The next time Ryuuken shows up out of nowhere behind him, the older man is very surprised to find his son's clenched fist colliding with his jaw. He, understandably, skids and falls back on the floor, looking more than a little dumbstruck.

At first, all Uryuu can really think that the dumbfounded look on Ryuuken's face is perfectly priceless, but in an instant, satisfaction is wiped away and replaced by stark terror as he realizes exactly what he's done. As bad as it's been between the two of them, he honestly never expected to find himself in the position of punching his father's lights out.

_Why did I…_

White-lipped, he stares at Ryuuken as the latter hauls himself to his feet, rubbing blood away from his mouth and wonders if he should start to back away.

Ryuuken fixes him in a piercing stare that he's clearly restraining away from an enraged glare. "Alright," he hisses through gritted teeth. "I will admit that I walked right into that one. But _please_… Don't do that again."

"You said 'Surprise me'," Uryuu retorts shakily, heart still pounding and face still white.

Ryuuken really glares at him this time. "Let's continue."

And it's back to Cat-and-Mouse.

Somehow, Uryuu's more comfortable in this role than the one he found himself in before.


	125. Akon's First Day

**Title**: Akon's First Day**  
Characters**: Akon, Mayuri, Hiyori**  
Summary**: What do you mean I can't quit?**  
Pairings**: No pairings**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Timeline**: Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Author's Note**: To **Ayase Reincarnated**, here's the Akon drabble you requested. It was actually more enjoyable than I thought it would be.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **Ayase Reincarnated**.**  
Word Count**: 185**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Akon's first day in the Twelfth division doesn't go as well as he would like.

If anything, he thinks about quitting within the first hour, and would too except he has no idea which channels to go through. When he learns that he—the one who tells him this has a slightly strained smile on his face—literally _can not_ quit, he sighs and starts to head back, resolving to brave the vortex of chaos that is the Twelfth division.

The sight that greets him when he comes back is horrifying.

Kurotsuchi-san has barricaded himself behind an overturned desk, shouting furiously at that little harpy, Akon's lieutenant.

Hiyori, for herself, is shrieking obscenities at Kurotsuchi-san and is flinging textbooks at him, much to his dismay (Said books are valuable scientific texts).

And of course, their deadbeat captain is absolutely nowhere to be found.

Akon turns on his heel the moment he comes in, and starts to head back for the barracks, knowing where Kurotsuchi-san keeps all the aspirin. Kurotsuchi-san isn't the only one who needs it.

In the morning…

"Can I at least transfer?"

"_No_."


	126. Winter, Never Ending

**Title**: Winter, Never Ending**  
Characters**: Byakuya, Hisana**  
Summary**: Her voice adds on to the choir.**  
Pairings**: ByaHisa**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: Angst, Romance, Tragedy, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Soul Society arc**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report here. Feedback would be appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 175**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Cold is the hand he grips in his own now. Cold is everything around him. The spring has yet to dawn, has dawned, will never dawn. Byakuya isn't entirely sure, isn't sure of anything anymore.

Where has Hisana's warmth gone? It was there just a second ago. Now, she's taken the warm air with her, letting the light filter in the through the window to feel more like winter than oncoming spring. Every day, Byakuya is sure, will be winter from now on. Never-ending.

He is silent, thinking that, if he just sits there long enough, she will open her eyes again.

_Maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe…_That chorus is familiar and monstrous. Echoing voice that curse him with angry tongues, for wrongs he's done, wrongs he's not yet committed. Now, her voice adds cadence to the choir.

Byakuya sits, silent, until the servants finally realize he's gone and, as the sun sets on night, come in to find their master stroking the stiff hand of his wife who has, by this time, been dead several hours.


	127. Graffiti Red

**Title**: Graffiti Red**  
Characters**: Gin, Kira, Renji**  
Summary**: Gin knows it's bad when he's the only sane one.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Can you imagine Kira creating graffiti? I mean, I can see Renji doing it, but _Kira_? Feedback would be much appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 130**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Gin knows it's gotten bad when he's the only sane one in the room.

Or the only sane one in the vicinity.

"Izuru, what are you doing?"

Of course, Kira and Renji both scatter into the bushes at this point, leaving the can of spray paint on the ground and Gin to stare at the wall in front of him. It's a little difficult, considering how dark it is outside.

Gin picks up the bright red spray can and narrows his eyes at the graffiti on the night-darkened brick wall.

Then, he calls into the darkness:

"While this is actually very good, when the two of you choose to come up for air you're going to have to get rid of it!"

He keeps the spray can, to be safe.


	128. Country the Size of a Pinprick

**Title**: Country the Size of a Pinprick**  
Characters**: Ishida, Orihime**  
Summary**: "Well, you can relax now."**  
Pairings**: IshiHime**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Friendship, Romance**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Okay, really short one, but I have this trouble with finding Liechtenstein too.**  
Word Count**: 136**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

It's only tapping the nub of his pen on the table that keeps him bursting out in frustration while examining the map, searching in vain for the desired name.

"Calm down," Orihime reaches out to gently touch the hand clenched around a pen and Ishida flushes red and stops tapping the pen on the wood table, and sighs.

"This is so very idiotic," Ishida mutters, putting a hand to his forehead and grimacing as if in pain, glaring fiercely at the map spread out on the table.

Orihime laughs softly. He looks up in some confusion.

"Well—" her eyes are still crinkled in friendly humor "—you can relax now, since I've found Liechtenstein."

"Oh, thank _God_." It was about time _someone _found the country as small as a pinprick on that map of Europe.


	129. Painkiller Bliss

**Title**: Painkiller Bliss**  
Characters**: Nanao, Shunsui, Rangiku**  
Summary**: She didn't even notice them.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Humor, Suspense**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Nothing to report.**  
Word Count**: 130**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Nanao's blue violet eyes were surprisingly calm as she surveyed the scene (Of course, she'd just gotten painkillers for a headache and they were making her somewhat drowsy, but Shunsui and Rangiku didn't know that).

Two pairs of eyes followed her warily as she went to the bookshelf in Shunsui's office and started tapping her finger against the spines. All the while, she didn't even acknowledge their presence.

Finally, she found the book she was looking for.

Humming absently (_Nanao-chan hums?_ Shunsui thought incredulously), Nanao departed from the captain's office.

And all the while, she hadn't even noticed Shunsui and Rangiku getting into one of their infamous drinking contests.

Rangiku's blue eyes were wide. "I'm not sure whether to be relieved or spooked."

"You need to be relieved, trust me."


	130. A First

**Title**: A First**  
Characters**: Ulquiorra**  
Summary**: Ulquiorra's first time seeing rain.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: Arrancar arc**  
Author's Note**: Again, requests are welcome (And continue to understand that I have every right to turn your request down). Seriously, people, I could use the new ideas.**  
Word Count**: 107**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

The rain shattered the sky as it fell, looking like shards of glass falling and scattering when they hit the ground. A soft roll of thunder came overhead, sounding to his unschooled ears like a roar. He tensed for a moment, then realized that it was nothing to be concerned about and relaxed in his sheltered place underneath an awning in the abandoned street.

It was really quite odd, this phenomenon. The rain looked… The rain looked… like tears, a little bit.

It was the first time Ulquiorra had ever seen rain.

It was the first, and…

"It's time to go."

And it would be the last.


	131. Hearing Voices

**Title**: Hearing Voices**  
Characters**: Rangiku, Haineko, Gin**  
Summary**: "Are you _sure_ I haven't gone nuts?"**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Drama, General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Okay, I don't watch the anime, so I haven't seen any of the arcs. I do, however, have a vague knowledge of them from the wikia, so I hope Haineko doesn't seem out of character. And requests are still open; see chapter 116's author's note for restrictions.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **XxGryffindor LionessxX** for the idea.**  
Word Count**: 241**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Hello."

Rangiku knows it's bad when she can hear voices while she's awake. She sits up on her pallet and looks over in the shack; Gin is asleep, and the voice doesn't even sound like him. It's feminine.

Gin's a deep sleeper; Rangiku doesn't seem what the harm is in answering. If she has gone crazy, at least she should be able to get an interesting conversation out of it. Wringing her hands together (she's suddenly absurdly thankful that it's a warm night), she whispers, "Hello."

"Just to be clear, you _haven't_ gone crazy, so you can stop worrying about that."

Rangiku lets out a sharp breath, though it occurs to her that if she has gone crazy and is having a conversation with herself, that sounds exactly like something she would say.

"Listen—" this voice is canny and world-weary, if a little lazy "—you'd better get used to hearing me talk to you."

_Oh, delightful. There goes any hope I had of getting sleep tonight._

"But no one else will be able to hear me, so if you don't want to look like a crazy person don't acknowledge me if I feel the need to chat while you're with other people."

Rangiku frowns. "But who-what are you?"

Something that sounds like a laugh follows. "Curiosity, good. That'll help."

"Hello? Hello?"

Now, there's only silence, and Gin rolling over and mumbling for her to stop talking in her sleep.


	132. Left a Bitter Taste in His Mouth

**Title**: Left a Bitter Taste in His Mouth**  
Characters**: Renji, Rukia**  
Summary**: So this is what it tastes like.**  
Pairings**: slight RenjiRuki**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Angst**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: To anonymous reviewer **Kuchiki Byakuya**, I'm sorry, but I don't write slash. You can check in the author's note of chapter 116; you'll see that right there under the request restrictions.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **Nicky Eira** for the idea.**  
Word Count**: 208**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

He'll always remember this day, he supposes, vividly as his heart starts to pound. Rukia walks away, devoid of the usual bounce in her step, and Renji can tell that, maybe, the answer he gave her wasn't the answer she wanted to hear.

Oh, well. The words can't be taken back now, and Rukia is going to have to take him at his word, as much as it pains him to realize it. He made a mistake.

The moment Rukia is out of view Renji allows him to tell himself how stupid he is, that he may well have just lost a friend to some cold, aristocratic clan, and all he could tell her is,

"_That's great."_

He supposes he expected Rukia to choose him over the Kuchiki, but what was she supposed to think when all he would say was how happy he was for her?

For all that Rukia's such a strong-willed person, she's always taken her cues from others. And Renji knew that.

As she walks away, the astringent, bitter taste fills his mouth, and though Renji has never known it before, he knows exactly what it is.

He'll always remember this day, remember what it was like to feel second-best, for the first time.


	133. It Makes Perfect Sense Now

**Title**: It Makes Perfect Sense Now**  
Characters**: Tatsuki**  
Summary**: Tatsuki is bewildered.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Humor, General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Just to note, requests are still open—indefinitely, in fact—so feel free after taking a quick look at the restrictions on the author's note of chapter 116.**  
Dedication: **To **Hasty**, who wanted a Tatsuki piece.**  
Word Count**: 119**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Tatsuki can't understand why she can't find a training partner at the dojo, and it makes her more than a little angry.

Whenever she marches into the dojo now, anyone who could be considered remotely up to par with her level throws wary glances in her direction and runs if she comes near them.

_What the Hell?_

Finally, after about a week of noticing this odd and disturbing behavior, Tatsuki, bewildered and sorely vexed asks Orihime if she has any idea what this all is about.

Without any of the wariness that has characterized the others, Orihime smiles and sits her down on a bench.

Now, it makes perfect sense.

But Tatsuki's still unhappy.

_What a bunch of wimps_.


	134. What on Earth?

**Title**: What on Earth?**  
Characters**: Nanao, Lisa, Shinji**  
Summary**: Nanao wishes someone would just tell her what's going on.**  
Pairings**: implied Shinji x Lisa**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Humor, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Timeline**: Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Author's Note**: Word to the wise: Nanao-Lisa? Extremely easy to write, not to mention extremely enjoyable. Requests are still open; the restrictions laid down still apply.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **capslock-nanao**, who wanted a Nanao-Lisa piece. I'm the one who threw Shinji into the mix, though.**  
Word Count**: 207**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Nanao is more than a little disturbed by how comfortable Lisa and Shinji seem to have her with them when they're in the process of getting drunk out of their skins.

Lisa does it with a little more finesse with Shinji; both do it with more finesse than Kyouraku-taicho could ever hope to do. Shinji downs saucers in one gulp; Lisa grasps her glass by the tips of her long fingers, sipping where Shinji gulps. It's probably why Shinji's laughing loudly while Lisa's voice is still quiet.

Blue-violet eye dart nervously around the bar; she's sitting between Lisa and Shinji and edges closer to the former, starting to wilt under the pressure to make herself invisible. "Yadomaru-fukutaicho, why are we here?" she whispers.

Lisa doesn't answer immediately, and it's down to Shinji to wink at her. "Lisa's trolling for men."

Nanao raises an eyebrow, then promptly displays the naïveté that she still possesses despite all of her intelligence. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't mind him." Lisa tucks an arm around Nanao's shoulder and shoots a glare at Shinji over her head. "Shinji's just jealous because apparently he doesn't know how to make a move on time."

Nanao wishes someone would just tell her what's going on.


	135. Moment Killer

**Title**: Moment Killer**  
Characters**: Ryuuken, Sayuri, Isshin**  
Summary**: Kurosaki Isshin: Shinigami, doctor, and, if you were to ask Ishida Ryuuken, moment killer extraordinaire.**  
Pairings**: Ryuuken x Sayuri**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: Humor, Romance, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: May be OOC, but I'm still bizarrely proud of this one. Requests are, as ever, open.**  
Word Count**: 389**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

_Never_ has one of Isshin's untimely interruptions been more unwelcome.

Sayuri grins impishly—she's gotten that down to a fine art over the years—and Ryuuken leans down to kiss her but is abruptly cut off by an absolutely _hateful _voice from the corner of the kitchen.

"Morning."

Both promptly jump out of their skins and whirl round to face the source of the voice.

Isshin is leaning against a countertop in the kitchen—no one's bothered to turn the lights on the and the light from the windows (it's early morning and overcast outside) is quite dim and gray. He's nursing a cup in his hands, giving them the sort of stare that no one ever likes to see directed at them.

Sayuri's face flushes scarlet and Ryuuken glares at his freeloader-boarder. "Was it too much to ask to wait another three seconds?"

The Shinigami ignores this—though Sayuri raises an eyebrow—and laughs, grinning incredulously at both of them. "Oh, this is _precious_," he says, eyes gleaming. "Though I get the feeling I missed the punch line?" This is directed at Ryuuken, who only scowls blackly—words fail him in situations such as this.

Sayuri pinches the bridge of her nose as if to ward off a headache—it can't be any worse than the headache Ryuuken's getting. He glares more fiercely at Isshin this time, and is somewhat put off by the utter lack of response it gets. "I thought you said you wouldn't be back from Soul Society until tomorrow."

Isshin shrugs defensively, trying—and failing—to come across as dismissive. "I got off early. Though I'm getting the impression that it's a good thing I didn't get off a few hours _earlier_, am I right?"

Whistling cheerily, Isshin moves towards the fridge and the look Sayuri shoots up at Ryuuken is somewhere between exasperated and murderous. "We need to get rid of him," she whispers snappishly.

"I've already tried. _Twice._ Trust me, Sayuri, it can not be done."

"Then what do we do?"

"Go to your place next time, I guess."

She rolls her eyes. "That's not what I meant, but it sounds like a plan."

Sayuri marches out in duck-footed fashion and the moment she's gone Isshin looks up from the kitchen table and grins again. "Your collar's messed up."

"Go to Hell."


	136. More Trouble than It's Worth

**Title**: More Trouble than It's Worth**  
Characters**: Yamamoto, Shunsui, Juushiro**  
Summary**: This may not have been a very good idea.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Imagine two sons taking their father to a bar, only to find it's more trouble than it's worth.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **Nicky Eira** for the idea.**  
Word Count**: 144**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Shunsui and Juushiro exchange a somewhat cagey look. They're beginning to get the feeling that it wasn't a very good idea to bring the soutaicho with them tonight.

It's not like Yamamoto's a cheap drunk—that would be so much more manageable. No, Yamamoto can put it away with the best of them, without getting even slightly tipsy or even losing the stern glare that's been on his face for so long that Shunsui at least is convinced it's become ingrained there.

No, what they're concerned about is something of a different matter.

A few drunks (they're in Rukongai and no one here would recognize Shinigami out of uniform) have been harrying Yamamoto-soutaicho and he's starting to become irritated.

Juushiro sighs.

They may have to intervene soon.

After all, they'd like it better if the bar was still _standing_ the next time they came.


	137. Trailing the Happy Couple

**Title**: Trailing the Happy Couple**  
Characters**: Ichigo, Ishida**  
Summary**: This almost made up for it.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Humor, Friendship**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: I have a really hard time writing Ichigo, but here we go anyway.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to Blueberry Absinth.**  
Word Count**: 294**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Ishida tugged on Ichigo's sleeve to get his attention and pointed to the street below. "There they are."

"Where?"

"_There_."

"Okay, okay, don't lose your head; I see 'em."

From their perch on the fire escape, the two watched as Yuzu and her date—personally, Ishida was surprised that Isshin and Karin weren't joining in on this—rounded a corner. That was their cue to hop down and start walking.

"What if we lose them?"

"We _won't_ lose them; just relax."

If it were a little less irritating Ishida would have found it funny how jittery Ichigo was getting at the very idea of one of his sisters having a date—with _anyone_.

"Hey, Ishida?" Ichigo was shooting a noticeably wary—not to mention begrudging—look at him. "Thanks…" He sucked in a breath as if this was physically painful for him "…thanks for helping out on this." The face he was making made it seem as though this were especially painful.

One thing Ichigo and Ishida had in common was that both had been denied anything even remotely resembling a normal childhood—in Ishida's case it was debatable as to whether it had ever been a childhood at all; knowing he'd be better off mentally if he didn't think about that too hard, Ishida refused to speculate on the subject. But this—engaging in the normal activity of teenage boys (stalking a sister or a girl they were at least protective of when she was on a date) for possibly the only time in their lives—almost made up for it.

Ishida smirked, and for the sake of world peace didn't tell Ichigo how amusing his face looked when he contorted it in that fashion. "Let me know when Karin-san has a date."


	138. Unexpected Help

**Title**: Unexpected Help**  
Characters**: Aizen, Hinamori**  
Summary**: "What can I do?"**  
Pairings**: onesided HinaAizen**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: AU**  
Timeline**: Pre-Soul Society arc**  
Author's Note**: This is essentially a "what-if" AU, if Aizen had confided his plot in Hinamori.**  
Word Count**: 118**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"What can I do?"

I blinked down at her, surprised and yet pleased at this statement. I'd expected Hinamori-kun to be disturbed, shocked, horrified at the revelations she has just learned. For all of her devotion she was still a "law-abiding" young woman.

This did not matter. It was just as well that she was eager; I would have had to take steps had she not been.

Hinamori-kun knelt at my feet, brown eyes as she stared up at me bright and shining. Devoted, so mindlessly devoted. She couldn't even see what she was getting herself into.

I smiled.

"I'm sure we can think of something for you to do, Hinamori-kun."

Another accomplice would serve my purpose well.


	139. This is Unlikely

**Title**: This is Unlikely**  
Characters**: Hitsugaya, Hiyori**  
Summary**: Shinji will never know what hit him.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Humor, Friendship**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Fake Karakura Town and Deicide arc**  
Timeline**: post-Deicide arc**  
Author's Note**: Not much to report here. Requests are still open (and the restrictions still apply) and reviews would be much appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **Ayase Reincarnated** for the idea.**  
Word Count**: 226**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Hitsugaya would like to know who was stupid enough to put him and the little blonde Vizard in the same hospital room. For one thing, the last time he checked, men and women aren't supposed to be housed in the same hospital room in Seireitei, and, for another…

"Damn it, Shinji, can't you see I'm busy trying to get some sleep?"

She and her friend are robbing Hitsugaya of much needed sleep.

Hitsugaya groans and rolls over and waits for the shouting to stop.

When it does, it's clear Shinji's gone and he rolls over to see Hiyori lying on her back, fuming.

He frowns. "Hey." The whisper bounces off of the walls.

Her brown eyes still roil with fury as she rolls over. "What?" The question is entirely too brusque, entirely too surly but Hitsugaya doesn't really care as he sucks in breath for words.

"You want to get some sleep, don't you?"

"Gee, how'd you guess?" Hiyori snarls and goes back to staring at the ceiling, pointedly ignoring him.

"Well, so do I." Turquoise eyes grow keen. "And it seems to me that we have the same problem. We can't get to sleep, as long as your friend keeps barging in here."

At this, Hiyori rolls back over, staring at him intensely. "I'm listening," she murmurs slowly, and Hitsugaya knows he's found a co-conspirator.


	140. Clichés are for the Dogs

**Title**: Clichés are for the Dogs**  
Characters**: Rangiku, Gin**  
Summary**: Gin and Rangiku differ on what makes a good movie.**  
Pairings**: slight GinRan**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Humor, General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**:**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: The fact that they're using videocassettes and not DVDs should tell you that this isn't the recent past. Requests are still open (Restrictions apply).**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **AriesRaccoonRebi** for the idea, though as you may have noticed, I've twisted the idea a bit.**  
Word Count**: 144**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Well, that was by far the stupidest movie I have ever seen," Rangiku sighs, taking the videocassette out of the VCR. "What a bust."

Still sitting on the couch, Gin shrugs. "I don't know. The premise was alright."

She rolls her eyes, thinking that it's just like Gin to disagree with her on principle. "Are you kidding? It was the most clichéd bit of garbage I've ever watched! How can you like _anything_ about that movie?"

A thin smile spreads over Gin's face. "I liked the part where they were dancing in the rain."

For a moment, all Rangiku can do is gape at this answer. Then, she just mutters, wide-eyed, "Tell me you're joking."

"No."

This is one of the more disturbing discoveries she's made about Gin in the past few years, Rangiku decides, as she vows to never rent a video again.


	141. Why Ikkaku Hates Wigs

**Title**: Why Ikkaku Hates Wigs**  
Characters**: Ikkaku, Yumichika**  
Summary**: Ikkaku's never going to a costume party again.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Humor, Friendship**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: I haven't done anything with these two in a while, so the idea of Ikkaku in a wig became convenient. Requests are still open and feedback is always appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 180**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Stop that," Yumichika hisses, slapping Ikkaku's hand down.

"I can't help it," the other grumbles, rubbing at his head under the wig again. "The damn wig itches something fierce." Ikkaku can't understand for the life of him why he agreed to this.

Oh wait, he remembers now. Yumichika can strong-arm into anything. How he manages that is still very much a mystery, however.

Lavender eyes roll up towards the ceiling as Yumichika puts a firm, even tight hand on Ikkaku's arm to drag him forward. "Well stop before I make it to where you _can't_ scratch."

Ikkaku stares suspiciously at him. "You wouldn't."

"I would. And I mean it too. This is a costume party, and you are possibly the only bald man in the Eleventh division." It's a symbol of their friendship that Ikkaku doesn't freak out on him at the word "bald" and only glares. "If that wig falls off, everyone is going to know it's you."

"Won't they be able to tell by my voice?"

"That's the _only_ thing they should be able to tell by, Ikkaku."


	142. Magpie

**Title**: Magpie**  
Characters**: Kira, Gin (in spirit)**  
Summary**: Kira goes through Gin's desk.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Soul Society arc**  
Timeline**: Post-Soul Society arc**  
Author's Note**: Requests are still open, and feedback is always appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **Nicky Eira** for the idea.**  
Word Count**: 112**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

A month after Gin leaves, Kira finally feels brave enough to go through his old captain's desk.

What he finds in a small drawer is more than a little surprising.

Small things, keys, key chains, links from bracelets, tiny charms that glitter in the light of the weak sun. All down in silver, shining, scintillating. Kira sifts them through his hands, brow furrowing.

Grief and betrayal is exchanged for confusion as he looks through the contents. None of them look familiar; he's never seen Gin with any of these things.

_Where did he get them? And why did he have them?_

Kira hadn't been aware that his former captain was a magpie.


	143. Magpie, Part 2

**Title**: Magpie, Part 2**  
Characters**: Gin**  
Summary**: Unbeknownst to Kira, Gin also collects people.**  
Pairings**: implied GinRan**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: This is the direct sequel and spiritual successor to _Magpie_; **Nicky Eira** gave me the idea (I can't tell whether intentionally or not) in a review for _Magpie._**  
Dedication**: Dedicated, again, to **Nicky Eira** for the idea.**  
Word Count**: 198**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Small silver trinkets aren't the only thing Gin likes to hoard within his dark linen folds.

He draws people in, like a fisherman casting a net out. Silver scales flash in the dark water as the fish, not even aware that they've been captured, are drawn to the boat.

And for the most part, no one ever realizes that they've been drawn in, hook line and sinker.

At the first, it was Rangiku out of loneliness. She may as well think she drew him in and not the other way around. If this is the image Rangiku comes up with, Gin is content to let her cultivate it. No need to get her excited.

Dozens of others follow, and Kira is the most prominent of the lot. Gin was careful when he drew the boy in; the net's so tightly wound that Kira couldn't get out even if he wanted to. Kira he needs for what comes ahead, Kira, Gin can not let go.

There's a very simple reason for why Gin collects people—beguiles, fascinates, intimidates, entrances.

And he isn't talking.

It doesn't do to give away _all_ the secrets, after all, and this a big one.


	144. How Not to Mince Words

**Title**: How Not to Mince Words**  
Characters**: Rangiku, Hitsugaya**  
Summary**: Hitsugaya and Rangiku's response to an unreasonable request.**  
Pairings**: onesided HitsuHina, onesided HinaAizen, alluded to GinRan**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Drama, Angst**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Soul Society and Arrancar arcs**  
Timeline**: during the Arrancar arc**  
Author's Note**: Not much to report here. I can't believe I haven't had them having a conversation like this before.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **Nicky Eira** for the idea, though you'll see I've twisted it a bit.**  
Word Count**: 298**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"I mean, does she even know what she's asking?" Hitsugaya exclaims, plainly frustrated and pained. "I can't _save_ him; for God's sake, I wanna kill him and she's asking me to _save _him?"

Rangiku isn't entirely sure what her captain wants her to say in a situation like this, so she sighs and decides that settling for telling him the truth will be best. What she won't be telling him is that, if she knows of Hitsugaya's feelings for her, Hinamori may have just outdone Aizen in terms of manipulation. This is almost certainly a bad thing.

Sitting down beside him, leaning against the wall Rangiku attempts to comfort him. "It _is_ pretty unreasonable, isn't it?" When he doesn't answer, glaring, she goes on. "Just remember, Hinamori's pretty much had a nervous breakdown. She's not in her—"

"What the Hell does _that_ have to do with anything?" Hitsugaya shouts. "I have a duty to Soul Society, no matter what Hinamori thinks. And even if I didn't, I'd still want to gut him for what he did to her. How can she still defend him?"

Rangiku bites her tongue to keep from stating the obvious. "You'll do what you know is right," she tells him bluntly. "If Hinamori doesn't understand, she'll just have to. In the end, our duty to Soul Society supersedes all other loyalties. Even to those we love," she adds with some difficulty, with a pang in her heart and understanding how Hinamori can be so conflicted.

Hitsugaya plainly doesn't like this, pulling a sour face, but he understands.

And this is why he let Rangiku stay on as lieutenant of the Tenth division when he first became captain in the first place.

Because she won't let politeness get in the way of the truth.


	145. Should be Glad

**Title**: Should be Glad**  
Characters**: Ryuuken, Uryuu**  
Summary**: Ryuuken is glad Uryuu doesn't smile like her.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Angst, Family**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: _Another_ one of these. Just couldn't resist.**  
Word Count**: 128**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

At least that's one way in which he'll never be the unknowing shadow of her, mimicking her movements, traits, mannerisms imperfectly but close t to the mark without even knowing what he's doing.

The thin-lipped smile Uryuu rarely—all too rarely; there's much Ryuuken _can _do about it but little he's _willing_ to do—allows to ghost over his face isn't anywhere near hers. His mother's smile was wide-open and generous, typically showing teeth, whereas Uryuu smiles more like his father, though Ryuuken knows he's never _seen_ him smile.

Ryuuken tells himself he's glad things are like this, easier to deal with. Glad, he tells himself.

Glad, but still as hollowed out as a rotten tree trunk.

And feeling like he's missing something. He just can't tell what.


	146. That's the Last Time

**Title**: That's the Last Time**  
Characters**: Shinji, Hiyori**  
Summary**: Why Hiyori is no longer scheduled for any dentist visits.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Hiyori biting people is such an entertaining image. Much thanks goes to **capslock-nanao** for supplying a story to work with.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **capslock-nanao** for the idea.**  
Word Count**: 161**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Shinji meets Hiyori's glower with an infuriated glare. "Not only did the stupid dentist charge us through the roof, he also threatened to sue you for damages. Have you got any idea how long I had to talk to him to get him _not_ to sue? I thought I was gonna have to use kido on that bastard!"

Hiyori chuckles darkly. "Was he bleeding?" Her sharp incisors gleam with her satisfaction.

"Yeah, he was. Why the hell did you have to bite the dentist, Hiyori?"

"He was asking for it! He called my teeth ceramic fakes!"

This prompts a roll of the eyes from Shinji and he snarls. "Whatever. Hiyori, you've been officially blacklisted by the dentist. We won't be taking you back for a check-up any time soon."

She shrugs. "Why should I care? It's not like I ever _need_ to see a dentist."

Says the girl who's gotten three teeth knocked out in fights since her exiled to Earth.


	147. The Twilight Zone

**Title**: The Twilight Zone**  
Characters**: Renji, Byakuya**  
Summary**: Is this really a scolding?**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Not much to report here. Requests are still open and feedback is always appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **Nicky Eira** for the idea.**  
Word Count**: 282**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Byakuya dips a pen into ink as if to accentuate the point as he fills out the paperwork that will hopefully smooth over what Renji has done.

Renji himself stands in front of Byakuya's desk, wondering if _this_ is the point where his new captain will commence to kill him. _Damn… I've only been here a week, too._

"I had hoped," Byakuya murmurs without ever looking up, "that you would have left the lunacy within you within the confines of the _Eleventh_ division barracks, and that you wouldn't take it with you, Renji."

Ah, _here_ we go.

"As I understand it," Byakuya continues, voice still calmly brittle, "you have injured Madarame Ikkaku-san, is that correct?"

Renji nods mutely, seriously considering running out the door and never coming back.

"Yes. According to this report—" the captain of the Sixth holds up a sheet of paper to the light so Renji can see it "—you have incurred property damage upon the Eleventh Division grounds, and fractured Madarame-san's lower jaw."

Renji cringes. It's getting close; he just knows it.

Byakuya dips the pen into the ink pot again, turning his eyes back downwards. "I think this is all very clean-cut, Renji, and I have only this to say.

"In future, when engaging in situations such as this, you are to hit Madarame-san a little harder."

Renji gapes at him.

Gray eyes, perfectly even, stare up at him. "And you are not to be caught next time, do you understand?"

The lieutenant nods.

"Then you are dismissed."

Renji bows and leaves.

When he finally gets outside the office, he only has this thought running through his mind:

_When did I enter the Twilight Zone?_


	148. If Only She Had Popcorn

**Title**: If Only She Had Popcorn**  
Characters**: Soi Fong, Urahara, Hacchi**  
Summary**: That's the only way it could be more perfect. That and Urahara screaming for mercy.**  
Pairings**: none**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Fake Karakura Town arc**  
Timeline**: post-Deicide arc**  
Author's Note**: I'll write a standalone oneshot related to this some day (Maybe soon). Requests are open until I say otherwise and feedback is always appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **Nicky Eira** for the idea.**  
Word Count**: 144**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

In Soi Fong's eyes, the only way this scene could be more perfect would be if she had popcorn to chew on while it was happening.

And… Urahara screaming for Hacchi not to do this would be nice too, but Soi Fong has recently learned how to pick her battles and she'll pick them now, taking what she can get when she can get it. Making Urahara scream for mercy will be an interesting exercise for another day.

Soi Fong is so jubilantly happy that she's able to smile sweetly up at Hacchi and nod, "Thank you, Hacchi-san", before he moves off, leaving Soi Fong alone with the trapped Urahara behind the barrier.

Soi Fong smirks up at the former captain who only stares blankly down at her.

Then she leaves.

Somewhere, Soi Fong is going to find popcorn.

Then she will come back.


	149. Lessons in Triage

**Title**: Lessons in Triage  
**Characters**: Unohana, Kira  
**Summary**: Unohana shows Kira how it's done.  
**Pairings**: None  
**Rating**: T  
**Genres**: Angst, Drama, General  
**Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Fake Karakura Town arc  
**Timeline**: pre-manga  
**Author's Note**: Since it's come out that Kira used to be a member of the Fourth division, I've wondered about the sort of relationship he must have had with Unohana. Feedback would be appreciated, and requests are welcome.  
**Word Count**: 215  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"We must treat the more seriously wounded first and leave those less likely to die to fend for themselves," Unohana explains to him, sad and gentle and not unkind.

Kira doesn't seem to hear her and, distressed, gesticulates towards the beds beyond where the patients on them seem ominously small and still under the antiseptic light. Their blood seeps through the thin white sheets.. "What about them? They're badly injured but you won't let me treat them!"

And this, Unohana decides, is why Kira, though a good healer, isn't cut out for the Fourth Division. He's a bleeding heart. He can't discriminate between those who can be saved and those who should just be allowed to die in peace.

The Fourth Division has no room for those who think they can save everyone.

She shakes her head at him, sadness deeper than before, if only for Kira's own desperation and panic. "And those who can not be save must simply be triaged out."

"But why?" There's a mixture of anger and agony in his voice and the former is so unlike him that Unohana would be startled if she hadn't had to give this speech to a dozen others like him in the past.

"Because in the Gotei Thirteen, only those who can survive matter."


	150. Overreacting

**Title**: Overreacting**  
Characters**: Unohana, Yachiru**  
Summary**: That wasn't so bad, was it?**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Humor, Hurt/Comfort**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Yachiru's crazy but Unohana seems the sort who could handle her. Requests are still open; feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 196**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Putting a spurt of healing kido to the bite mark throbbing on her hand, Unohana's calm expression never breaks as she searches the hospital for her small, recalcitrant patient. All she has to do is follow the trail of broken housekeeping and dazed division members.

She supposes she should have seen this coming.

Finally, Unohana comes to a drawn curtain that seems to be trembling.

A quick paralyzing kido is shot at the protrusion, and the would-be escapee collapses.

Out comes the antiseptic and the bandages.

And when Unohana is done, she holds Yachiru, whose limbs are still weak and unlikely to be able to support her, with her head in her lap, gently stroking her hair. "There," she murmurs, smiling, "that wasn't so bad, was it?" She's referring to Yachiru's newly bandaged knee.

Yachiru seems more interested in escaping again. But that's not going to happen until the kido wears off.

Unohana picks her up and starts back in the direction of her office.

The kido won't wear off for another hour or so, and she doesn't think it would be the best idea to send Yachiru back to the Eleventh division in this state.


	151. The Pink Intruder

**Title**: The Pink Intruder**  
Characters**: Mayuri, Yachiru, Nemu**  
Summary**: Who let her in here?**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: T, for Mayuri**  
Genres**: Drama, Suspense, Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Hueco Mundo arc**  
Timeline**: post-Deicide arc**  
Author's Note**: Not much to say here, except that Yachiru, like many children, gets into _everything_. Feedback is appreciated and requests are still open.**  
Word Count**: 250**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

When Mayuri finds out who let Yachiru into his labs, what he did to the Espada back on Hueco Mundo won't even begin to rate next to what he's going to do to the miscreant responsible. He can content himself with thoughts of brutal murder as he attempts to track down the little pink whirlwind.

"Nemu!" he barks breathlessly, "Block off the exits! Don't let her get away!"

Nemu nods and runs off in the direction of the doors.

Grinning nastily, Mayuri draws his zanpakuto and turns gold eyes towards the deep shadows at the edges of his laboratory. "Come out, come out, wherever you are," he calls in a singsong voice towards the darkness, using the flat end of his zanpakuto to swipe at the shadows.

"Little girl, where are you?"

Mayuri thinks he can hear a bout of eerie giggling, before something crashes in the darkness. When he whirls around, one of the windows at the ceiling (the laboratory is underground and those windows are present for ventilation only) has its pane swinging wide open.

He sighs.

Nemu returns, and dips a brief bow before standing at attention.

"She got out through a window, didn't she, Nemu?"

The lieutenant nods. "Yes, Mayuri-sama."

In truth, Mayuri's too tired to be angry and there's nothing here he can break that isn't indispensable. Except Nemu, but that would take too long. "Alright. Find out if she stole anything and get me a catalogue of everything that's been broken."

"Right away, Mayuri-sama."


	152. The Rarest Color

**Title**: The Rarest Color**  
Characters**: Mayuri, Nemu**  
Summary**: Why Nemu has green eyes.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: I'm really digging deep, aren't I? Requests remain open, and feedback will always be appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 245**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Mayuri settles on green immediately when selecting an eye color for Nemu. Bright, piercing emerald green, without so much as a single fleck of brown or blue or gray to dilute the pureness of the color. They may as well be polished emeralds.

It's hard for others to identify why he's so dead set on this, since Mayuri doesn't give a great deal of care to any of Nemu's other physical features, apart from making sure that all glitches are smoothed out and everything's fully functional.

Mayuri has his reasons.

In short, it's a simple matter of preference. Green is an intelligent color, also the rarest natural eye color that Mayuri knows of—it was a pleasurable challenge to get the level of melanin just right, in order to produce the distinctive green color in her eyes that Nemu has become known for.

For a matter of aesthetics, green is considered an attractive eye color so with green eyes Nemu will be capable of subconsciously putting those she associates with at ease, even in the most dangerous of situations. That and her personality, if it doesn't have the exact opposite effect, tends to do the job nicely by itself.

And for personal reasons…

Mayuri happens to like green eyes.

He sees no need to inform others of that, but Mayuri figures he might as well give Nemu an eye color he can put up with, since he'll be stuck with her for a long time.


	153. For What Reason

**Title**: For What Reason**  
Characters**: Nanao, Rangiku, Nemu**  
Summary**: Nanao and Rangiku drag Nemu on a shopping trip.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Friendship, Drama, slight Angst**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: 170**  
Word Count**: Another piece with Nemu in it; you see, _this_ is what you have to look forward to. Requests are still open, and feedback is appreciated.**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Nemu's blank stare makes Rangiku roll her eyes and Nanao sigh, instead of evoking the normal reaction—shuddering and backing away. The two have long since become immune to the infamous stare's effects. "Just try it on, Kurotsuchi-san," the latter tells her, handing over the yukata to Nemu and glaring sternly at her—this is _not_ a request.

The younger girl seems to get the message, and retreats into the changing room.

Nanao exchanges a glance with Rangiku while they're waiting; they're fairly certain that if Nemu lets them buy this one for her it'll be the first article of civilian clothing she's ever owned.

When Nemu steps out of the stall uncertainly, she has two other women nodding approvingly at her.

"There, you see? It brings out the color of your eyes." The dull red yukata sits well on Nemu's slight frame.

This only elicits another blank stare from Nemu. "But… For what reason am I to wear it?"

Neither Rangiku nor Nanao have anything to say to this.


	154. Crayon War

**Title**: Crayon War**  
Characters**: Yumichika, Ikkaku, Yachiru**  
Summary**: It was all to shut her up.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Humor, Friendship**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: More Eleventh division love. Requests are open and feedback is strongly appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **Blueberry Absinth **for the idea.**  
Word Count**: 222**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"I knew you had a soft spot for her beneath all that bluster," Yumichika declares smugly, smiling triumphantly at the scene before him.

"Shut the hell up," Ikkaku responds immediately, more than a little sullen and seeming utterly defeated. Like he's fought a long, hard battle and had his pride handed to him on a silver platter gored through the heart with the spear still in. "This was just to shut her up."

Says the man who's sitting on the ground of his captain's office wearing crayons down on a coloring book with his pint-sized lieutenant. Yachiru squeals delightedly.

Yumichika raises an eyebrow. "And the chocolate?" The smugness in his voice now is such that if he wasn't Ikkaku's best friend he knew he'd be on the receiving end of an uppercut right about now.

Yachiru is stuffing chocolate into her mouth as she colors, the residue smeared around her mouth and staining her lips. Her cheeks are packed full like a chipmunk's until she swallows.

"That was to shut her up too," Ikkaku growls, coloring a character's hair red.

Smiling, Yumichika plops to the ground beside him. "Softy."

"I'm not."

"_Softy_."

"I'm not!"

"Sof—"

At this point, Ikkaku throws a crayon at Yumichika's head, then another, and all Hell breaks loose when Yachiru jumps to her feet and screams:

"WAR!"


	155. I Liked It Better Before

**Title**: I Liked It Better Before**  
Characters**: Ikkaku, Yumichika**  
Summary**: "I can't believe you actually did it."**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Friendship, Drama, Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Yet _more_ Eleventh division love. Requests are welcome and feedback is always appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 310**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Ikkaku stops and stares for a moment when he enters the room at the inn, caught in a cross between a double-take and a state of catatonic shock.

Long strands of black hair blow across the floor thanks to the window left open.

Yumichika shoots a dangerously calm stare at him. Personally, Ikkaku gets the sensation of being stabbed with imaginary daggers. Never a good sign. "Yes, Ikkaku?"

He might as well state the obvious; it's not like Ikkaku's got anything to lose—other than his life. "I…I can't believe you actually did it."

Yumichika snorts and raises a hand to flip back his hair before remembering that said hair isn't there anymore. At least not long enough for him to flip. "I told you I'd do it, Ikkaku." He tilts his chin up sulkily and squeezes his eyes shut. "You should have believed me."

Ikkaku can feel himself growing just a little agitated.

Okay, maybe more than a little.

"Yeah, but I didn't think you'd actually, you know, do it!" Ikkaku gesticulates wildly through the air to emphasize the point, but at the same time gets the impression that this isn't really doing anything at all to elaborate. "Why the hell, Yumichika?"

Yumichika shrugs and eyes his shorn hair in a mirror. "I was getting tired of being mistaken for a woman."

Ikkaku decides not to tell him that cut hair isn't going to do anything to help with that. "You didn't have to do this, though!"

"Well, why not?" Yumichika challenges. "Why shouldn't I have cut my hair?"

At this point, Ikkaku falters, and Yumichika smirks in triumph, going about the business of plucking strands of loose hair off the floor and throwing them away.

Ikkaku can't tell Yumichika that he liked his hair better long.

It would almost certainly prove a fatal body blow to his manliness.


	156. Instant Friction

**Title**: Instant Friction**  
Characters**: Isshin, Ryuuken**  
Summary**: The night they meet Isshin and Ryuuken come to entirely different conclusions about each other.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Drama, Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: I've been meaning to do something like this for a while; hope you all like it. Requests are very much welcome and feedback is always appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **Starfire201** for the idea.**  
Word Count**: 410**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

To say Isshin is surprised at this situation is no small act of egregious understatement. In fact, Isshin is doing his very best not to be bowled clean over by what greets his eyes. Out of all the strange things he expected to encounter on Earth, this wasn't one of them.

He's just landed and within seconds of arriving, Isshin senses a Hollow. Nothing unusual about that—in fact, he can't help but think, grinning, that a merry chase will be just the thing to get the crick out of his back from traveling through the Senkaimon.

But while he's in the process of pursuing said Hollow, its anti-reiatsu disappears. It's not that the Hollow's moved off; it's just that the reiatsu is…gone.

_Okay, this is weird._

One of the many things Isshin has grown notorious-infamous for back home is his inability to keep his nose out of things. If he was smart, he would just turn around right now, and set up camp and wait for the next one to rear its ugly head.

But Isshin _doesn't_ turn around. He instead, curiosity piqued, doubles his pace towards the place where he sensed the Hollow's reiatsu. It's going to be very interesting to see what the cause of this is.

Of course, when he finds out, he half-wishes he hadn't been so curious.

Isshin comes to a wooded area, and standing against a tree, shaded by the darkness of night is not a Hollow but a young man with brown hair and glasses.

He looks up when Isshin frowns at him—_What, this kid can see me?_—and the look on his face is distinctly unfriendly.

"A Shinigami," the boy mutters, antipathy clear in his voice. "Oh, that's _just_ what I need."

Isshin is more than a little perplexed by this whole thing, until an informal history lesson Shunsui once gave him over drinks comes back to him. He winces noticeably. "Let me guess…" He points a finger at the boy "…Quincy?" Isshin asks gingerly.

He gets a frigid half-glare, like the boy won't even deign to glare wholeheartedly at him, for his troubles. "That would be correct."

.

The talking goes on, introductions passed.

Kurosaki Isshin somehow ends up with the line of thought that he's just made a new friend.

On the other hand, Ishida Ryuuken starts to wonder when he's going to go crazy. The progenitor of all his early migraine headaches has officially entered his life.


	157. Trouble Magnet

**Title**: Trouble Magnet**  
Characters**: Hitsugaya, Kira**  
Summary**: Kira is a trouble magnet.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Drama, Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Deicide arc**  
Timeline**: post-Deicide arc**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open (with restrictions) and feedback has always and will always be appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 200**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Does this happen to you a lot?" Hitsugaya is finally starting to understand that wherever Kira goes, trouble follows. He might not be able to help it, but there the truth stands.

Staring at the destruction that has been left in his wake, Kira shrugs. "No more than what could be considered natural," he responds blandly.

This is the point where Hitsugaya resists rolling his eyes, and fails miserably. He's only human, after all.

What was once the bar Kira enjoys haunting now that his captain is officially and unequivocally dead (_Praise God_, Hitsugaya thinks irreverently) lies in smoldering ruins, the wooden structure still falling in on itself. The other patrons have long since fled, leaving Hitsugaya and Kira to explain all of this to the authorities when they show up—_Which shouldn't take too much longer_, Hitsugaya thinks worriedly; they really ought to start running before too long.

Hitsugaya pinches his nose. "I'm never going anywhere with you again."

"That saddens me, taicho, but perhaps that would be a good idea."

Running now would be good, and without further adieu, Hitsugaya and Kira high-tail it back to Seireitei, praying that none of this can be traced back to them.


	158. A Sick Feeling

**Title**: A Sick Feeling**  
Characters**: Ichigo, Ishida**  
Summary**: There's nothing he can do.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: General, Drama, Angst**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for chapter 429**  
Timeline**: chapter 429**  
Author's Note**: Spoilers ahead: I've read chapter 429, and all I can think is "Ah, shoot, this is not good". Ichigo had better get his act together; the apathy's not going to work anymore when you've got people trying to kill each other willy-nilly. Requests are open and feedback is especially appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 214**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"What the Hell?"

It's the only thing Ichigo can think to say, with the violent smell of blood rising in his nostrils and the mind-numbing shock of seeing someone lying in a pool of blood in front of where he lives, probably bleeding to death.

Ichigo gets the feeling that this would be the point where Ishida would be shouting at him, if he was conscious to do so. And that's what jolts his mind back to action.

He drops to his knees, hand, clumsy and fumbling and shaking from some amalgam of panic and fear and shock, going to Ishida's neck. "Okay, he's still alive, that's good," Ichigo mumbles, blood dropping out of his face as it continues to pool around his friend. "Where's the old man when I need him?"

A sickening feeling pulls in his stomach, as he realizes that there's nothing he can do. Call an ambulance or Orihime (they haven't got anything in the clinic that can handle this), hope they get here before Ishida exsanguinates, and other than that, there's nothing Ichigo can do but stand around and stare like an idiot. There's _never _anything he can do anymore. Just stand around helpless.

But mostly, the sick feeling is bewilderment.

_How did this happen? What's going on here?_


	159. Offering the Couch

**Title**: Offering the Couch**  
Characters**: Rangiku, Nanao**  
Summary**: Anything for a friend in need.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Friendship**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: no timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Just a short little friendship piece. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **capslock-nanao**, whom I believe wanted another Nanao piece.**  
Word Count**: 116**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

When Nanao falls asleep on Rangiku's couch, Rangiku never questions why she didn't go home or what she's even doing there in the first place. If anything, the closest she comes to verbally acknowledging the slightly younger woman's presence is to take her glasses off her face and leave them on the nearest flat surface.

She doesn't bother asking Nanao why she's here.

Why should she ask?

Rangiku already has a good idea of what she's doing there—refuge from work, her infuriating captain, her own memories—and it's not like Nanao's being inconvenient, or taking up a whole lot of space.

She's always more than capable of extending her couch to a friend in need.


	160. Don't Push Your Luck

**Title**: Don't Push Your Luck**  
Characters**: Rangiku, Gin**  
Summary**: Rangiku warns him and Gin doesn't listen.**  
Pairings**: GinRan**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Drama, Romance, Angst**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: vague spoilers for Deicide arc**  
Timeline**: pre-manga; post-Deicide arc**  
Author's Note**: Requests are still open and feedback is always appreciated.**  
Dedication**: dedicated to **capslock-nanao**, who wanted a GinRan piece.**  
Word Count**: 220**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Rangiku eyes Gin in such a way that is either intended to be concerned or faintly murderous. Pale eyes that seem as chips of ice are leveled in particular on the swath of bandages wrapped tight around Gin's wrist.

She's heard the stories.

"You managed to get away mostly unscathed, I see." Her voice is cool and neutral as Rangiku leans on the threshold of his office, not ever quite venturing inside. The smell of antiseptic and disinfectant, sharply noxious, fills the atmosphere of the room.

Gin nods, never getting out of his chair—probably still a bit sore from his recent tangle with a Hollow. "That's right."

"And the other casualties are…?"

"Two deaths and another severely injured." Gin rattles off the list as though he's been repeating it several times in the past few hours, and he probably has been. Rangiku doubts she's been Gin's only visitor.

Rangiku rolls her eyes and comes over until she's sitting on the desk and Gin's shooting her a slightly bemused glance. "You won't always be so lucky, you know."

"Well, I'll probably be dead when that happens, so at least I won't have to listen to you gloat."

She squeezes her eyes shut tight, when she realizes he isn't listening.

.

Later, Rangiku's heart screams every time she remembers this day.


	161. Why One Doesn't Anger a Vizard

**Title**: Why One Doesn't Anger a Vizard**  
Characters**: Shinji, Hiyori**  
Summary**: Most things about Hiyori Shinji learns the hard way.**  
Pairings**: slight Shinji x Hiyori**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: Humor, Friendship, Drama, Romance**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: post-Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **Ayase Reincarnated.  
Word Count**: 171**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"OWW! Damn it, that hurts, Shinji!"

"Will you hold still for a second? I'm trying to help."

Glowering viciously, Hiyori settles back down and, sullenly, lets Shinji dab at her cheek with a wet washcloth doused in disinfectant, hissing sounds escaping through her throat with alarming regularity—at least, it would have been alarming for nearly anyone but Shinji; he's used to it.

Shinji bites down on his tongue as he makes sure he's washed the cut out thoroughly with the washcloth, before letting it drop and glaring at her. "Was that really so bad, Hiyori?"

"Don't treat me like a baby," she mutters dourly, readjusting her jacket and going to stand up.

"I can't see why I shouldn't, when you act like one."

This is the point when Hiyori's temper finally bubbles over.

Shinji's just turned his back when she pounces, and the only appropriate response he can think of when he feels little sharp teeth diving into his shoulder is:

"What the Hell, you're a vampire now? Leggo, Hiyori!"


	162. Practice What You Preach

**Title**: Practice What You Preach**  
Characters**: Rukia, Rangiku**  
Summary**: The gig is up.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Angst, Friendship, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: vague, _vague_ spoilers for Deicide arc**  
Timeline**: post-Deicide arc**  
Author's Note**: Completely and totally random. Requests are open, and feedback is always appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 213**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Most are a little nervous when the two show signs of being in each other's company more often. Not that anyone would be unjustified in being a bit afraid of what the result of Kuchiki Rukia and Matsumoto Rangiku becoming friends will be.

But really, they ought not to be fearful. Though maybe, they should be just a little concerned.

Rangiku smiles gently in the sort of way she does with all the younger girls she's friends with—sort of like an older sister, but not quite—as she throws an arm around the much younger, much smaller Rukia's shoulder.

"Listen, Rukia-san, as bad as… well, _everything_ may seem now, you just have to keep your chin up and keep walking. There's no use letting it run you down."

Rukia is perhaps shrewder and more observant than Rangiku guesses, and the astute look she shoots up at her out of narrowed eyes is one that, if Rangiku had caught it, would have made her a touch nervous. _The gig is up, Matsumoto-fukutaicho_.

"I see… And how well has this been working for _you_, Matsumoto-fukutaicho?"

Just as Rukia had suspected from the start, Rangiku doesn't answer, and no matter how hard Rukia tries with an inquisitive gleam in her eyes, Rangiku still won't answer.


	163. New Guy on the Block

**Title**: New Guy on the Block**  
Characters**: Shinji, Urahara, Shunsui, Ukitake**  
Summary**: This isn't helping much.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Humor, Friendship**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Timeline**: Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is always appreciated.**  
Dedication:** Dedicated to **Nicky Eira**.**  
Word Count**: 216**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Personally, Kisuke wasn't aware beforehand that more senior captains felt it their duty to show the junior captains the ropes. Yoruichi certainly wasn't ever doing anything like this for him.

Not that, in all honesty, Shinji, Shunsui and Ukitake are really helping much at all.

"And…ya see, Kisuke, you need to remember to maintain order." Kisuke props his chin on his elbow and his elbow on the bar countertop and smiles, slightly incredulously, at Shinji as he keeps trying to speak. It's rather hard to do that, Kisuke supposes, when the speaker is stone-cold drunk and about to fall off his bar chair.

He looks over. Shunsui isn't in much better condition—if anything, he looks worse, with Ukitake leaning over him concernedly, patting his shoulder in an attempt to wake him up.

Brown eyes meet gray ones. "I think it's time," Ukitake half-whispers, shooting an amused look at Shinji as he continues to make a fool out of himself—now attempting to chat up the bar maid, and no really doing all that well, "to take these two home."

Kisuke nods, and puts a hand under Shinji's elbow as Ukitake props Shunsui up and they drag their drunken friends out of the bar.

"Do you always have to do this?"

"Welcome to my life, Urahara-san."


	164. Just Stay and Watch

**Title**: Just Stay and Watch**  
Characters**: Gin, Rangiku**  
Summary**: He's never wanted anything more than for her to be safe.**  
Pairings**: GinRan**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Romance, Friendship**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: vague spoilers for Deicide arc**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Just to go on the record _again_, I don't do slash. Of any kind. The request restrictions are on chapter 116.**  
Word Count**: 206**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

There's a young girl who lives in a shack in Rukongai, flipping back a filthy mess of pale gold hair that only gets washed when she gets caught in the rain—it's not like she has easy access to bathing water. Though she lives in poverty, she's safe here, and safety brings happiness to her far more easily than a regular supply of food ever could.

And living with her there's a young boy, about the same age, at least as far as she knows—he's never been very open with such matters, not something she minds (Rukongai is a place for keeping your secrets close, even among those you trust).

Gin watches her either close or at a distance. He isn't entirely sure why he does so, only that it's second nature for him now. He just knows that he keeps expecting Rangiku to get in trouble.

From what happened the day they met, Gin gets the impression that she's a bit of a trouble magnet.

And even when his suspicions don't pan out, he still watches.

Because in reality, all Gin wants is for Rangiku to be safe. Nothing more than that.

He doesn't see how that should get in the way of anything.


	165. The Wonders of Duct Tape

**Title**: The Wonders of Duct Tape**  
Characters**: Nanao, Shunsui**  
Summary**: "I'm glad you see it my way."**  
Pairings**: slight Shunsui x Nanao**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Humor, Drama, General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: post-Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Author's Note**: Hands up for those who can picture Nanao losing her temper and doing this. Requests are still open, and feedback is appreciate.**  
Word Count**: 212**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"I don't see what part of your behavior I'm supposed to tolerate," Nanao remarks in an extraordinarily mild tone. Her chin is propped on her knitted fingers as she sits at her desk, staring at Shunsui who is—amazingly—being utterly silent for once.

"First off, taicho, your actions don't befit one of your station. As the captain of the Eighth division, you ought to know better. I mean, going out drinking with Ukitake-taicho at three in the morning? Really, taicho?"

Shunsui still doesn't answer and Nanao actually smiles a little bit, and action that makes the captain shudder. "And honestly, Kyouraku-taicho, your behavior sets a bad precedent. The younger members of our division look to you to model their behavior. I shudder to think of what they've been learning."

Shunsui only allows Nanao to keep speaking.

"So, perhaps, we can work on altering your behavior a little bit in future?"

He nods vigorously.

Nanao's smile is practically beatific. "Thank you so very much, taicho. I'm glad you see it my way."

She gets up to leave, but stops.

"Oh, taicho? I'll get the duct tape off your mouth later. For now, I'm enjoying the silence and your sobriety too much to really want it off."

Shunsui can only glare at her.


	166. Evil Isn't Supposed To Be Cute

**Title**: Evil Isn't Supposed to be Cute**  
Characters**: Kenpachi, Yachiru**  
Summary**: Kenpachi takes a few notes.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Humor, Friendship, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback, as ever, is greatly appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 280**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

At the end of the day, Kenpachi, still smarting from irritation and a bite wound on his thumb (he had no idea Yachiru had such sharp teeth), makes a few mental notes, knowing that he'll be able to remember without actually writing anything down.

One: In matters such as this, in the future he has every intention of taking Unohana's advice. Never again will Kenpachi allow his pride to get in the way of common sense and Unohana's sound advice.

Two: Reinforcements will be called in next time. Ikkaku and Yumichika should just _love_ doing this sort of thing. Kenpachi may even break with tradition and delegate the task entirely to them, just for the Hell of it.

Three: And next time, Kenpachi _will_ have Yachiru sedated before giving her antibiotics, if at all possible. That should make things much easier.

Kenpachi sighs, and counts up the damages in his mind. The property damage inflicted today will take weeks to repair and may well send the division into the red, once again like it somehow ends up every year. Headaches for everyone, however, are completely and totally free of charge.

His eyes turn towards the inside of his quarters. Yachiru, face faintly discolored from illness, is nestled in the middle of his bed with her body curled like a cat's. Fast asleep, she occasionally coughs, rough patches before falling back to deep sleep.

Kenpachi sighs again as he sits down on the bed and, miraculously, finds a position to rest which doesn't involve shoving his leg down Yachiru's throat. He wants to move her, but can't quite find the heart with which to do so.

Evil shouldn't look that cute.


	167. Mental Notes

**Title**: Mental Notes  
**Characters**: Hitsugaya  
**Summary**: Three (or four) conditions for a happier Hitsugaya-taicho.  
**Pairings**: None  
**Rating**: K+  
**Genres**: Humor, General  
**Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers  
**Timeline**: No timeline needed  
**Author's Note**: Requests are open, and feedback is always appreciated.  
**Word Count**: 270  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Hitsugaya takes mental notes a lot, and today is no exception, not by a long shot. He only hopes that he won't _forget_ his mental notes as he sometimes tends to; that would be especially inconvenient.

Turquoise eyes sweep over the musty office somewhat exasperatedly. _Note One: I probably need to hire someone to clean this place up every once in a while. I know it'd be a whole lot more pleasant here if it wasn't an inch down in dust._

The heat is, as ever, oppressive in the grips of midsummer. If it gets any hotter, the office will probably start to melt—Hitsugaya's sure of it. _Note Two: _Force_ those idiots at maintenance to get the air conditioning fixed. They won't get very far if the captain of their division's melted while they're off doing God knows what._

And the paperwork is even more hellish looking than usual. _Note Three: Avoid getting into situations that will cause me more paperwork than I want to deal with. I'm practically swimming in this stuff as it is._

And, of course, Hitsugaya is utterly alone as he, defeated, sits down at the desk to start to sift through the paperwork and maybe have made a dent in it by midnight.

The final, and most important note Hitsugaya takes is that he _has_ to find something on Rangiku to hold against her, so maybe he can pass some of this paper ocean off on her.

Blackmail should be used sparingly, but it would be for a good cause.

After all, why should it be Hitsugaya who has to do all the work?


	168. Avoid the Subject

**Title**: Avoid the Subject  
**Characters**: Isshin, Rangiku, mention of Ryuuken  
**Summary**: Isshin talks about the human world. Sort of.  
**Pairings**: None  
**Rating**: K+  
**Genres**: General  
**Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers  
**Timeline**: pre-manga  
**Author's Note**: I hold to the theory that Isshin was the former captain of the Tenth Division. If that's so, then it probably would have been Rangiku who was his lieutenant. For more information, go see my independent oneshot _Wake_. Requests are open and, as ever, feedback is appreciated.  
**Word Count**: 312  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Ehh, it's not so different, really. I mean, you've been there yourself; don't you already know something about it?"

Over her sake cup (Isshin is, by contrast, stone-cold sober, unusual for him), Rangiku shrugs and stares into the depths, blinking lazily. "You've had more experience with the living world, taicho. I just thought you'd have some interesting stories."

Isshin stares out the window, suddenly highly abstracted, saying nothing and drumming his fingers against the countertop.

Rangiku frowns. "You never did that before."

"What? Oh, this?" Now it's Isshin's turn to shrug, as he draws his hand away from the countertop and rests it on his knee. "It's nothing. Just a habit I picked up from the kid I'm staying with—among _other_ things," Isshin adds in a mutter, though what he means by that Rangiku will never know.

Ignoring that last comment, she rests her sake cup down on the counter so as to better concentrate. "I knew you were staying with someone," she remarks triumphantly. When Isshin stares at her uncomprehendingly, Rangiku adds, "You don't _look_ like someone who's been living off the land for several months, taicho."

Isshin suddenly remembers something he needs to do. In fact, he suddenly remembers _several_ things he needs to do. That and the fact that Ryuuken told him not to say anything about him or his family to the Shinigami—in such a tone that Isshin doesn't think he'll have that couch to come back to if he does, and Isshin isn't quite ready to see if Ryuuken was being serious with those threats yet (Not that he thinks he wasn't being serious; Ryuuken isn't much of one for joking). "Yeah, whatever. Listen, Matsumoto. I've got work to do before I go back. I'll let you know when I'm leaving, okay?"

He ignores the confused look that comes over her face as he leaves.


	169. Byronic Hero? Not

**Title**: Byronic Hero? Not.  
**Characters**: Nanao, informant, Shunsui (mentioned)  
**Summary**: Shunsui's flights of fancy are starting to get on her nerves.  
**Pairings**: None  
**Rating**: K+, for mentions of Byronic heroes  
**Genres**: General, Humor  
**Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers  
**Timeline**: no timeline needed  
**Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.  
**Word Count**: 181  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Wait, he said what?" Nanao gapes up at her "informant", eyebrows shooting up into her black bangs. Sitting at her hospital bed, she sweeps her glasses off the stand so as better to look her informant in the eye.

Being a literal-minded young man, the informant hastily repeats himself, brow furrowing all the while. Eventually, Nanao holds up a hand to stop him.

"I heard you the first time. Just tell me, was Kyouraku-taicho drunk or sober when he said this?"

"Sober."

"Sober? Are you sure?" she asks sharply.

"Positive, Ise-fukutaicho."

"Okay, okay. You can leave; I'm sure you have a great deal to do."

The informant bows and lets himself out.

When he's gone, Nanao rolls her eyes, groans, and falls back in bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Kyouraku-taicho has picked a _really_ inconvenient time to take leave of his sanity.

"What on Earth is he thinking?" Nanao demands of no one in particular. "He's _not_ a Byronic hero, and he's _definitely_ not 'mad, bad or dangerous to know'."

…

"Or is it '_bad_, mad and dangerous to know'"?


	170. Support Beam

**Title**: Support Beam**  
Characters**: Nanao, Rangiku**  
Summary**: Nobody but her left now.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: Angst, Friendship, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: post-Soul Society arc**  
Author's Note**: Take a look at the timeline to get a sense of the background. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 191**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Nanao sighs as she attempts to gently extricate the sake glass from Rangiku's long fingers which, even now are tight and strong. "Come on, Matsumoto-san, it's time to go home, and go to bed," she whispers in a far gentler tone than what anyone is used to from her.

Rangiku, obviously, hasn't got a clue that it's her, but maybe she recognizes something of the authority in Nanao's voice because she hands over the glass and lets Nanao set it down on a flat surface, before easing her out of her office.

This has been her main nightly activity for three nights in a row—Rangiku's drinking has taken on a desperate quality, or perhaps she's just actively trying to kill herself by poisoning her liver beyond repair.

Nanao's never really transported a drunkard who's not Shunsui to bed before. It's an odd feeling, and a cold one too, as pain and pity rises in her stomach, sharp contrast to the scorn that usually comes when it's Shunsui. As much as she hates being a support beam, it's necessary, sometimes.

The question rings like a bell.

Who is there left to do this anymore?

No one, Nanao realizes dully, no one but her.


	171. Sedated

**Title**: Sedated**  
Characters**: Rangiku, Kira**  
Summary**: He needs sleep.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Angst, Friendship**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: post-Soul Society arc**  
Author's Note**: Again, look at the timeline to get a sense of the background. Requests are open, and feedback is always appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 165**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Pale, milky blue eyes previously open and quite pitifully bloodshot are now closed, bruised blue eyelids drooping down over skin, all the tension going out of muscles and bones.

Rangiku smiles gently, sadly, at Kira, and can't believe it took so long for the sedative she slipped into his sake to take effect. This, she supposes, is the strength that has allowed Kira to stay up for three days and nights, filling out paperwork mechanically like a decaying automaton.

But the mind and body can't go without sleep for very long, and though Rangiku knows that sleep will bring Kira little comfort, he'll feel better in the morning, after having slept for a good ten hours.

Still wearing that small, quavering smile, Rangiku takes the folded blanket off of the couch in Kira's office, and drapes it over his painfully thin frame. He never wakes up, a testament to the strength of the sedatives.

The light is turned off.

It can all wait until morning.


	172. Avoiding Eye Contact

**Title**: Avoiding Eye Contact**  
Characters**: Renji, Rukia**  
Summary**: Could anything _be_ more awkward?**  
Pairings**: slight onesided RenjiRuki**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Angst, General, Friendship, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: vague spoilers for Soul Society arc**  
Timeline**: post-Soul Society arc, pre-Arrancar arc**  
Author's Note**: Thanks to **Nicky Eira** for giving me the idea. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **Nicky Eira** for the idea.**  
Word Count**: 340**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

A soft rap on the door is all the entry Renji needs, marching into the hospital room with neither ceremony nor a check to make sure Rukia is "fit to see visitors". Frankly, it's this kind of behavior that's gotten him into trouble in the past, but Renji has a hard time learning.

Rukia looks up and smiles slightly and Renji has to look away, clenching his teeth for a moment nervously and coming to stand against the wall, not looking quite at Rukia but rather focusing his eyes on the wall just above the top of her head. "So, how are you?" Renji asks, trying his best to keep his voice neutral.

She shrugs and sniffs slightly, that prim look that Renji's always known coming over her small, pale face. "Can't complain, I suppose. I wish Unohana-taicho would discharge me, though. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I actually _want_ to go back to work."

Renji winces and Rukia seems to realize exactly what about her words was inappropriate for the situation, because a small spasm goes over her face and she falls back in bed, yawning slightly and pressing one hand over the other in her lap. "And, you?" Rukia's voice falls flat and lame, and, like Renji, she's not looking at him but at the wall just over his head.

Himself shrugging the way she did, Renji chooses now to stare out the window. "Alright, I guess." Renji almost asks Rukia if she misses those kids who went back to the human world a week ago, but stops himself just in time.

Whatever more he could have said (whatever more he _wanted_ to say), he doesn't. Instead, Renji's eyes finally fall to the floor, and he mutters, "Listen, Rukia, I've gotta go. I'll see you later, 'kay?"

He tries to ignore the ambivalent look that comes over her face, both hurt and relieved, when Renji walks out, but instead of being able to ignore it her face dogs Renji all the way back to the division.


	173. On the Razor's Edge

**Title**: On the Razor's Edge**  
Characters**: Gin**  
Summary**: He is all too aware of the precariousness of his position.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: T, for safety**  
Genres**: General, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Deicide arc**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Ah, another Gin-centric. Requests are open, and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 248**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Gin is all too aware of the tightrope he's currently walking. It's an experience that to him is both exhilarating and sobering, one part adrenaline pumping, one part cold feeling in his stomach. One can't come without the other.

He knew that, eventually, Aizen's scheming would start to get off the ground in earnest. He'd prepared himself for this day for years, knowing that the removal of Hirako-taicho was only the tip of the iceberg, and that there would be far more to come.

However, Gin didn't expect himself to feel so uncomfortable now that it's all coming to fruition.

His discomfort doesn't come from any moral scruples; Gin is willing to go anywhere, do almost anything, in order to get close enough to Aizen and then strike. Rather, it's a sense of the danger he's in now.

Gin can tell how precarious his position is, is keenly aware of the danger. While he's always loved a touch of danger in his life this is perhaps a bit more real than what he bargained for. No, wait. He knows this is more real than what he thought it would be.

He'll just have to be more careful from now on. Construct a few more masks, in order to submerge his true personality and keep it from scrutiny or the light of day.

For those walking on the razor's edge, there is no safe path. Gin will just have to settle for the one most accommodating to his feet.


	174. Mistletoe

**Title**: Mistletoe**  
Characters**: Ichigo, Ishida, Orihime (in spirit)**  
Summary**: In which Ishida loves Christmas and Ichigo is amused.**  
Pairings**: IshiHime**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Humor, Romance, Friendship**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: My favorite pairing for a Christmas drabble. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 141**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

When Ichigo sees Ishida he's got a bit of a foolish smile on his face and there's a faintly dazed expression plastered to said face. Considering the time of year it is, it doesn't take a genius to know what happened but Ichigo stays silent, deciding to let his friend tell the story.

Ishida says nothing for a few moments. Finally, he stares into nothing as he says, a slightly blissful note in his voice, "I love Christmas."

Ichigo snorts, almost laughing but not quite. "Let me guess." A knowing tone that under any other circumstances Ishida would have bristled at enters his voice. "Mistletoe?"

"Uh-huh."

Again, Ishida falls silent. Eventually, Ichigo grows impatient and makes staccato jabs at the air with his hand. "And?"

"Who do you think?"

Ichigo laughs under his breath. This comes as no surprise to _anyone_.


	175. Cheated

**Title**: Cheated**  
Characters**: Chizuru, Yumichika**  
Summary**: Why did the good-looking ones always turn out to be men?**  
Pairings**: onesided Yumichika x Chizuru**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: Humor, General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: an AU in which Chizuru's seen Yumichika in Shinigami form**  
Timeline**: No timeline in particular; post-Arrancar arc**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **Blueberry Absinth** for the idea.**  
Word Count**: 136**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Chizuru homes in on the tall, dark-haired one immediately. This one is tall and slim, with short black hair and striking lavender eyes. She's flat-chested with hands somewhat bigger than what would be considered ladylike, but Chizuru ignores that; though she's more into the…_buxom_ (Orihime springs to mind), delicately feminine type, this one is very lovely too.

A tall woman clothed all in black, with orange to brighten up the scene (Oddly, the color offsets her eyes nicely). Chizuru is just about to go up and ask the woman her name and if she wants to go out when she hears her speak.

And she realizes that "she" is a "_he_".

Dejected, Chizuru flops back down onto the park bench, brooding.

Why do all the good-looking ones (apart from Orihime) always turn out to be men?


	176. Rebuffed

**Title**: Rebuffed**  
Characters**: Byakuya, Yoruichi**  
Summary**: This was a bit more than a courtesy call.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Drama, Angst**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: general spoilers**  
Timeline**: post-Deicide arc**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open, and feedback is appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **Anithene** for the idea, though you'll find that Yoruichi's veiled attempts at reconciliation are mostly rebuffed.**  
Word Count**: 501**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

A bright, sharp whistle is what gets Byakuya's attention and makes him snap his head up from where he was sitting with his back against a support beam of the veranda. It's been over a century since he last heard that whistle… But he recognizes it immediately.

Smoke gray eyes search out the source, and sitting on the roof opposite where he is, across the courtyard, Yoruichi crouches on the wood, and waves down at him.

Byakuya isn't sure whether he wants to draw his zanpakuto and chase her off his property or not.

If Yoruichi notices his indecision, she isn't at all perturbed by it. "Hey… Can I come down?"

Byakuya makes a deliberately ambiguous gesture which Yoruichi chooses to interpret as a 'Yes'. With all the grace of the cat she enjoys transforming into, she slides down from the roof, walks over with a quick gait and plops down on the porch opposite Byakuya as though exhausted. Her smile is decidedly uncertain.

Byakuya hasn't seen nor spoken to Yoruichi since summer, just before she left for the human world again. Personally, he's just as ambivalent to her now as he was then. He's not entirely sure how to treat a woman who disappeared from his life for over one hundred years and is now trying to insinuate herself back in again.

But Yoruichi won't let him contemplate for long. Her gold eyes are curious and, maybe just a little reserved at the back, but not at the front. "Are you okay?" she asks uncertainly.

Well… _That_ wasn't what he had expected as a question out of Yoruichi. Byakuya frowns slightly, nodding. "Yes, Yoruichi, I am. I don't know what gives you the impression that I'm not." There's a hint of a question there, and Yoruichi can sense it.

She shrugs. "Well, you'd been sitting there for at least an hour, and in all that time you never noticed I was sitting on your roof. You're usually a bit more alert than that, Byakuya."

Now, it's Byakuya's turn to shrug, or at least come as close to shrugging as his dignity will allow—it can't be said that the Kuchiki clan head indulges in such things as _shrugging_. "It has been a long day, Yoruichi, and I am tired. As I'm sure you've found, alertness tends to dissipate with fatigue." He's so 'fatigued', in fact, that he's not bothering to be angry with Yoruichi for sitting on his roof for an _hour_ without saying anything.

That's a hint for Yoruichi to leave, and she can spot it out easily. Nodding uncomfortably, she shoots back up to her feet. "Yeah, I can see you're tired. I'll be leaving, then."

She's gone in a flash, and Byakuya goes back to staring at the twilight sky, shades of deep, deep wine violet and rich ultramarine blue closer to the canopy of the sky.

Byakuya thinks he can be forgiven if he isn't quite ready to accept any attempts on Yoruichi's part at reconciliation.


	177. Better Left in Ignorance

**Title**: Better Left in Ignorance**  
Characters**: Kira, Yachiru, Kiyone, Nanao, Soi Fong**  
Summary**: Kira's seen many strange things in his life. This is one of those times, though, that threatens to take the cake.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Humor, General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: post-Soul Society arc**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 182**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Kira frowns as he looks up and stares out the window. For a moment, he wonders if he's still asleep and dreaming or if the alcohol he drank last night is starting to affect his mental faculties.

After a moment, he manages to convince himself that he is both conscious and sober, and Kira squints, staring harder. After a moment, he finally realizes what he's seeing. And Kira's narrowed eyes widen.

He will readily admit to have seen many strange things in his life, but really…

Yachiru and Kiyone are both perching on the branch of a tree, peeking warily down at Soi Fong and Nanao below, both of whom have looks of murder on their faces. Both of the older women are quite wet and Nanao is busy trying to pick soggy confetti out of her hair.

Kira wonders if he should go outside and ask what's going on, before deciding he's better left in ignorance.

That and the fact that, judging from the look on Soi Fong's face, she'd probably kill him on accident as a result of friendly fire.


	178. I Predict, That Within Thirty Seconds

**Title**: I Predict, That Within Thirty Seconds…**  
Characters**: Ryuuken, Sayuri, Uryuu**  
Summary**: Maybe it's time to give the tired mother a break.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Family, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: I've been wondering for a while whether I should write this. Well, here goes. Also, any OOCness can be explained by it being a long time pre-manga, and there's still plenty of time for Ryuuken to come to his present "charming" (can you hear the sarcasm?) personality.**  
Word Count**: 418**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"It's cold. Haven't you noticed?"

"Honestly, no."

She can be heard to sigh slightly. "Of course not. Unlike me, you never feel the cold, _do you_, Ryuuken?"

Ryuuken frowns uncomfortably, staring up at the ceiling since, in the full darkness, he doesn't think his weak eyes could focus on Sayuri if he wanted to. He's not entirely certain why exactly their having this conversation in bed at two in the morning, but then again a lot of things tend to confuse him when it comes to his wife, so he'll just try to go along. "I wouldn't say _never_, Sayuri. I mean, I'm aware that it's January outside. I'm aware that there's snow on the ground. It's just that—"

Now, a sound that suspiciously resembles a soft laugh comes from where Sayuri is lying on the bed. "Never mind. I meant in the house, Ryuuken."

"Oh." He decides to ask. "Sayuri?"

"Yes?"

"Why are we having this conversation?"

She shifts on the mattress, trying to find a comfortable position. "To stay awake, I guess," Sayuri answers tiredly, "since, within the next thirty seconds, probably, Uryuu will be awake wanting to be fed."

And, sure enough…

"Okay, more like five seconds, but you get my point." Sayuri starts to tiredly clamber out of bed. "Now, if you'll excuse me…"

Ryuuken beats her to the punch. "I'll do it this time, Sayuri, go back to bed."

Rummaging for his glasses, Ryuuken doesn't need them to tell she's frowning. "You've got work tomorrow, remember?" she points out uncertainly.

Ryuuken doesn't answer, and Sayuri sinks back down onto the mattress, deciding that if he wants to be tired when he goes to the hospital tomorrow, than there's no arguing with him. "Okay, okay. Just remember to test the milk this time."

"I only forgot _once_, Sayuri," Ryuuken mutters defensively.

That familiar humorous note, now with a noticeable bite, enters her voice. "Yes, once. And you know, Ryuuken, I don't think Uryuu's going to forgive you if you forget again." The sounds of an infant crying in the next room redoubles. "You'd better hurry," Sayuri adds quietly. "The kid knows when he's hungry. Are you sure about this?" she asks again anxiously. "I can feed him if—"

"No, no. You've been getting up every night for the past week. Let me do it this time."

Just as Ryuuken's in the doorway, she calls him back.

"Ryuuken?"

"Yes?"

He can just barely make out a smile in the gloom. "Thanks."

"Sure, Sayuri."


	179. Partners in Pranking

**Title**: Partners in Pranking**  
Characters**: Yoruichi, Yachiru, Nemu, Kiyone**  
Summary**: All shudder and tremble at this development.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Humor, General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: post-Soul Society arc**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **JuzSomeone**.**  
Word Count**: 135**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Yoruichi isn't sure who this girl is, beyond that she's the present lieutenant of the Eleventh division and that she likes her. Everyone else shudders at this new development.

Yachiru is a ball of manic energy, much as Yoruichi was as a child—and to an extent, still is. Yoruichi hasn't matured so far that she's unwilling to play with a small child and adhere to her notions of fun; if Yachiru's willing to do what Yoruichi wants to do than the favor must be returned.

They get together, and together Kusajishi Yachiru and Shihoin Yoruichi wreak the sort of havoc on Seireitei that even a hostile invasion couldn't manage.

And sometimes, they gather Kurotsuchi Nemu and Kotetsu Kiyone as their somewhat willing accomplices, and together, the four plot to bring Seireitei to its knees.


	180. Come to Kenpachi Meeting

**Title**: Come to Kenpachi Meeting**  
Characters**: Kenpachi, Yachiru**  
Summary**: Yachiru wants to see the fireworks.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Family**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is always greatly appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 200**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

He's never done this before, but this year is the first New Year's Eve Kenpachi has ever not been swamped under with work and Yachiru was at her most charmingly (read: guilt trip-ifying) insistent, so Kenpachi has agreed to it, and taken Yachiru to the roof of one of the buildings on the grounds of the Eleventh Division, clearing an area free of snow so they can sit down. It's bitterly cold, but at least it's not snowing.

Yachiru squirms a bit in his lap, heavily bundled in coats with a blanket wrapped over her shoulders. "When are the fireworks gonna start, Ken-chan?"

"Any second now," Kenpachi assures her, thinking that the fireworks had _better_ starts soon, otherwise he and whoever's in charge of that (probably some Fourth Division bum again) are going to have a serious Come to Kenpachi meeting right in front of God and everybody.

Maybe the one in charge can feel his ire rising from across several hundred yards, because just at that moment the fireworks start up, first snowy white, then gold and after that scarlet.

_Well… It's about time._

"Yay!" Yachiru squeals, and Kenpachi leans back, knowing that all is right with the world.


	181. The Morning After

**Title**: The Morning After**  
Characters**: Rangiku, Shunsui, Nanao, Isshin, Ryuuken**  
Summary**: The morning after for three Shinigami.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: General, Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: Timeline jumps**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated. Happy New Year's, everybody.**  
Word Count**: 340**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

No matter the date in time or their location at the time, there are three Shinigami who always manage to drink in more celebration than they can manage on New Year's Eve. And when the morning after comes, they tend to experience varying degrees of discomfort.

.

When Matsumoto Rangiku wakes up on the couch in her office the morning after, it is utterly silent, and she is alone. Perfect conditions for overcoming a hangover. In order to maximize and speed up the healing process, she locks the door and firmly shuts the curtains on the window, and then rolls over on the couch, going back to sleep.

Anyone who wants her to do paperwork this morning is going to be sadly disappointed.

.

When Kyouraku Shunsui wakes up on the couch in _his_ office New Year's morning, he, unlike Rangiku, is not alone.

It's early but Nanao is already up and about, straightening up the office and doing paperwork. Out of pity quite uncharacteristic for her, she is trying to be as quiet as possible, and doesn't talk to Shunsui right away.

However, Shunsui is still in desperate need of an aspirin, which Nanao quickly provides for him.

After all, the sooner Shunsui recovers, the sooner he can get down to his paperwork.

.

And when Kurosaki Isshin, in one of the earliest years on Earth, wakes up after a night of overdoing the New Year's celebrations on the couch of the apartment where he stays, he is not met to solitude or a sympathetic compatriot.

Instead, young Ishida Ryuuken, who had to drag him away from a bar at two in the morning, is moving around the apartment as loudly as he can manage.

This is payback both for the sleepless night Ryuuken got last night, and for the past indiscretion of the one time Isshin managed to get _him_ drunk and he was the one who woke up on the couch with a hangover.

He's trying to make Isshin suffer, and he's succeeding beyond his wildest expectations.


	182. So Not Fair

**Title**: So Not Fair**  
Characters**: Hitsugaya, Hinamori**  
Summary**: He knows she had something to do with this.**  
Pairings**: HitsuHina**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Humor, Friendship, Romance**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: no timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 226**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Okay. Let's try this again."

Hitsugaya tries not to growl when Hinamori becomes distracted—yet _again_. "But Hitsugaya-kun," she exclaims, eyes all too innocent—and this is the moment when Hitsugaya realizes, with mingled horror and fury, that her becoming distracted is all in the plan. "It's lovely outside today, and I wanted you to come with me to go visit your grandmother. This will take all day."

"Well I'm not going out like this," Hitsugaya snarls, "so my grandmother can wait until evening, I think."

Hinamori puts a hand over her mouth to hide her teeth as she giggles. "I don't know, Hitsugaya-kun. I think you look kind of cute."

Hitsugaya rolls his eyes; if he's not careful, he knows his cheeks will go the same shade his hair presently is. "I fail to see how I can look anything resembling cute when some… some… _delinquent_ has snuck into my quarters at night and dyed my hair pink while I slept."

The smile that goes over Hinamori's face is now disturbingly suggestive, and Hitsugaya makes a note to keep her away from Matsumoto in future. "Oh, you'd be surprised."

Face now scarlet, Hitsugaya turns away to make sure the curtains are pulled shut.

He knows, just _knows_, that Hinamori had something to do with this. He just can't figure out what.

_Women don't fight fair._


	183. Your Inexperience is Astounding

**Title**: Your Inexperience is Astounding**  
Characters**: Isshin, Ryuuken**  
Summary**: He's been waiting for this moment for a long time.**  
Pairings**: Ryuuken x Sayuri**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Humor, Friendship, Romance**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is much appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 333**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Women are manipulative," Ryuuken is heard to grumble, and Isshin has to roll his eyes at that comment.

He's not entirely sure what it is his young roommate and his girlfriend (Ryuuken hates the term but Isshin's just telling it like it is) were talking about before Ryuuken let him back inside, but apparently whatever the discussion was, it ended in a way more beneficial to Sayuri than Ryuuken, and she left with a wide smile on her face, leaving Ryuuken behind to look just a little distracted, like he's not sure what just happened.

Frankly, that look was actually kind of funny. Isshin had to restrain himself to keep from laughing; Ryuuken might have tried—forcibly—to evict him again if he pressed the wrong button.

Isshin snorts. "Women aren't manipulative so much as you're just gullible." He smirks. "And a sucker for a pretty face. _Her_ pretty face."

Ryuuken casts a silently unappreciative stare at him from across the room, returning to the desk and his formidable mountain of homework, and says nothing, again going to "deaf" mode; his only defense, besides sarcasm and the threat of physical violence, against the plague known as Kurosaki Isshin.

And today, Isshin will _not_ be ignored. The look on his face as he peels an apple in the kitchen is decidedly smug. "And, tell me Ishida, just how many women have you ever had personal contact with?"

There's silence for a long time. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, with the sort of air that clearly indicates his reluctance to answer, Ryuuken mutters, "Three. Sayuri, Kobayashi Masaki, and my mother."

"Then you haven't got nearly enough experience with women to know if they're manipulative," Isshin remarks in a sing-song voice.

"Shut up," Ryuuken mumbles, whipping out a battered calculator.

"Ishida, you have no idea how long I've been waiting to say this: You are _painfully_ inexperienced when it comes to women, my young friend." Sometimes Isshin doesn't know when to stop.

"I said 'Shut up'."


	184. A Leak

**Title**: A Leak**  
Characters**: Kira, Soi Fong**  
Summary**: How is he supposed to explain this?**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Drama, Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is always much appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 127**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"So… What do we do about this?"

"What? Oh, no. There is no 'we', my small-minded colleague. _You alone_ are responsible for this, and _you alone_ will take the blame for this incident!"

"But Soi Fong-taicho…" Kira turns a mournful look on the diminutive captain, trying desperately to secure her aid; after all, half of this _is_ her fault, no matter what she attempts to claim.

Soi Fong just waves a hand through the air irritably and disappears, and Kira is left to stare at their handiwork, a sick feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

Really…

How, Kira muses gloomily, is he supposed to explain that the pipes in the Third Division have burst because Soi Fong and Kira were practicing their shikai on them?


	185. Last Minute Save

**Title**: Last Minute Save**  
Characters**: Rangiku, Gin**  
Summary**: Rangiku would like some recognition.**  
Pairings**: GinRan**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Romance, Drama, Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 237**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"It would be nice, you know, if you could remember these things." Rangiku's voice is deceptively mild, and Gin winces at the promise beneath it. Rangiku is for the most part good-tempered, but even she has a temper and he's familiar with it.

They are alone in the office; this much, Gin can be thankful for. Rangiku is at least considerate enough not to cause a scene in front of anyone else.

"I don't know what you mean, Rangiku."

"Oh, I think you do, and like I said, I'd like it if you could remember these things." Rangiku taps off the number of things on her fingers, eyes wide and staring up at the ceiling as though this is just a re-hashing on the part of a woman of a grocery list before sending her boyfriend off to the grocery store. "Like filing the paperwork on the most important things, and keeping both eyes open on a mission. And of course, _remembering my birthday _would be nice too, since you're the one who gave me my birthday in the first place." She shoots a highly significant glance at Gin.

_Ohh… That's what she means._

Gin chooses this moment to slip the long, thin box out from his sleeve, holding it outstretched to Rangiku. "Ah, I think I understand now. Happy Birthday, Rangiku."

Her face relaxes and lights up, and Gin takes the opportunity to think:

_Problem solved._


	186. Gentleness is a Foreign Word

**Title**: Gentleness is a Foreign Word**  
Characters**: Byakuya, Soi Fong, Hisana (in spirit), Yoruichi (alluded to)**  
Summary**: Odd, how she was the only one he'd ever listen to.**  
Pairings**: ByaHisa**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: Angst, Drama, Friendship, Tragedy**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Soul Society arc; takes place in _Cohesion_-verse**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: This takes place in the same universe as my (long) standalone oneshot _Cohesion_, which I know will please some of you. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 479**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"You are eating, aren't you?"

Her voice is not concerned and worried so much as it is sharp and blunt. There's a command hidden in the barely polite tones of that question, and Byakuya isn't so far gone in grief that he can't recognize it, or know what it is.

He nods mechanically, and Soi Fong is satisfied by this, going on to inspect him further with a canny and critical eye, wrinkling her nose in disgust as she inhales. "You need to bathe, Kuchiki. It's not horrible now but it'll get worse, and I don't want to be able to smell you before I see you."

To this, another automated nod comes.

To anyone who doesn't know the situation the two find themselves in, all of this would seem just a little comical, especially considering that Byakuya, even dull-eyed and nearly silent as he is, doesn't look the sort who can be bossed around by a tiny woman like Soi Fong.

But _someone_ has to take care of these things considering Byakuya has been freshly widowed, and Soi Fong has a strong enough voice to get through to him.

That's the odd thing, that she should be the only one he listens to.

Soi Fong's approach to resolving the matter of Byakuya's grief and guilt concerning Hisana's death is anything but gentle, or considerate to how many raw spots she might hit with every move and word. Soi Fong has never been tactful, or at all considerate. In fact, her actions are the sort that would alienate most mourners from paying any attention at all to her words except to shout her down. Moreover, Soi Fong once put a huge scar on Byakuya's chest when he was younger that remains to this day; it's hard to believe that they are even on civil terms during normal times.

But still, Byakuya listens to her.

Deep down, it might be his knowledge of the pain Soi Fong herself still nurses close to her heart, and the knowledge that she best out of anyone in his life knows the nature of his bereft heart. She alone both knows his heart and how to deal with it.

And she will not be gentle.

To be gentle with him will only to be to allow him to rot in the corner of some dark room away from the sunlight.

And Soi Fong doesn't think she could be gentle if she tried.

"And stop hacking away at that post so much with your zanpakuto. You're going to hurt yourself. If you really want to train, meet me here tomorrow at ten."

She'll have him so exhausted that Byakuya will be too tired to even remember Hisana's name, let alone what she was to him.

And that is the only way Soi Fong knows of to help him.

The only thing Byakuya will respond to.


	187. The Awkward Silence of a Waiting Room

**Title**: The Awkward Silence of a Hospital Waiting Room**  
Characters**: Kira, Nemu**  
Summary**: He'd forgotten how literal-minded she is.**  
Pairings**: slight Kira x Nemu**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: General, Drama, Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers; mentions of a _female_ concern**  
Timeline**: No timeline necessary**  
Author's Note**: Forgive me if I was just a little crude here; it's always hard to tell what pushes good taste. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 561**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Kira sneaks a slightly wary glance at the Shinigami sitting in the chair next to his, across from the small table with a lamp and magazines, her utter stillness just as unsettling at it has ever been. He fidgets with his hands in his lap, knowing that she won't speak to him. Nemu is nothing if not freakishly silent under nearly all circumstances.

The knowledge that Nemu won't force him into conversation with her isn't terribly comforting though, since the silence of a hospital waiting room is invariably oppressive, and weighs down on him like a yoke across his shoulders.

Nemu herself does not seem to feel anything uncomfortable at all, or labor under the weight of silence—then again, she has always been so in-tune with the silence that she melts into it; Nemu probably doesn't even notice how quiet it is. Kira doesn't have that advantage; when the quiet gets unbearable, he _has_ to find someone to talk to. Even if the only person around is Kurotsuchi Nemu.

Kira shoots a nervous glance at Nemu and wonders how to open up a conversation with her; he's wanted to for a really long time now, and curses that the circumstances when he finally gets the opportunity must be such. Nemu is sitting, ankles crossed and eyes downcast, as though she is the only person in the sterile white waiting room.

"Umm…" Finally, Kira summons the courage to start talking "…so what are you in for, Kurotsuchi-san?" he asks with false cheer, not really expecting this to be enough to evoke a response.

To Kira's amazement, emerald green eyes meet his. She has actually deigned to speak to him.

Nemu shifts just a little bit, shoulders stiffening as she stares down at small hands perched on bare knees. She almost seems embarrassed—before Kira remembers that Nemu _never_ gets embarrassed.

"Candidiasis."

About _anything_.

Kira feels his cheeks burn, and starts cursing himself silently again for forgetting two highly important things about Nemu: That she is extremely blunt, and possibly the most literal-minded person in existence. When she's asked a question, she always gives an honest, sometimes _too_ honest response.

Kira decides not to tell Nemu that she probably shouldn't have been so honest, and that that's not the sort of question anyone is ever supposed to answer so literally. He knows that that would turn into the sort of conversation that Nemu, surprisingly naïve girl that she is (despite being so morbid half the time) would take hours to fully understand.

Instead, he gives up his own reason, cringing all the while, knowing that politeness demands a brutally honest answer to go with another brutally honest answer.

"I've got a deviated septum," Kira supplies ruefully, not looking at her.

Nemu, far from being embarrassed, only nods slightly. "Well, I hope that your problem will be resolved."

One of the Fourth Division Shinigami pokes her head through a door, calling for Nemu, who swiftly comes to her feet despite the discomfort she must be in.

Kira nods and replies hastily, "The same for you," as she leaves.

Once Nemu is gone and Kira is sure he is safely alone, he collapses back in his chair, and decides that no matter how awkward the silence gets, he is _never_ going to try to talk to Nemu to try and dispel it again.

Ever.


	188. Back Pains

**Title**: Back Pains**  
Characters**: Unohana, Soi Fong**  
Summary**: "You aren't always in danger of being attacked."**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Angst**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Fake Karakura Town arc**  
Timeline**: post-Deicide arc**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 252**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Unohana breezes serenely around Soi Fong as the latter sits on a table in a room in the hospital and stares at her with the sort of intensity that she actually seems to think of as _intimidating_.

Perhaps, Unohana muses, it would be for most. But not for her. Unohana has been through far too much to fear the glares of a child.

"I understand that your recovery is going well, Soi Fong-san, and that your regenerated arm is functioning as well as it ever has." Unohana's tone is somewhat absent as she draws from the folds of her haori the manila folder containing Soi Fong's medical history.

"That's not the problem." Soi Fong barely restrains a snap; she is consistently surly but she knows better than to be rude to the captain of the Fourth Division. Unohana can see all the muscles in her bare back tense at this pronouncement; Soi Fong has discarded her own haori. Her thin hands clench on the edges of the table. "My back is killing me."

_Ah, so she has finally been forced to admit it._

Slowly, Unohana nods and then, smiling gently, comes to stand besides Soi Fong and place a hand on her shoulder. "You hold yourself too rigidly, Soi Fong-san." Her voice is mild. "You don't need to stand as though you are expecting an attack every moment of your life."

Soi Fong stares up at her, her eyes veiled. She has only two words to say for the captain. "Don't I?"


	189. Moonlight in the Eyes

**Title**: Moonlight in the Eyes**  
Characters**: Wonderweiss, Aizen, Yamamoto (mentioned)**  
Summary**: "This won't hurt a bit." He lied.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: Drama, Horror**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Fake Karakura Town arc; somewhat AU**  
Timeline**: pre-Hueco Mundo arc**  
Author's Note**: To **Nicky Eira**, I know it's not exactly what you asked for, but it has Wonderweiss in it and it mentions Yamamoto. As ever, requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **Nicky Eira**.**  
Word Count**: 516**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

He is just a child really, when the Shinigami comes.

Namely, when a single Shinigami comes.

The words going through his mind are simple when he sees the moonlight flashing off of glass lenses. _Enemy… This is the enemy… What do I do? Do I attack or flee? Can I risk aggression?_

"Do not be alarmed."

Those words, spoken by the Shinigami, hold a strange, hypnotic power, and Wonderweiss Margera is helpless to do anything but stand there as the Shinigami, like some weird mirage, ghosts down the curve of the dune's spine, long linen cloth whipping around him, black as coal. Darker than the night behind him.

The smile that appears on the man's face is like a serpent poised to strike, though Wonderweiss will only recognize the danger after it is far too late. For now all feeling is deadened: he is caught, helpless, transfixed.

Caught under this man's spell, as so many others are.

"I only wish to come to you with a proposition that I believe you may find to be to your satisfaction."

.

The nights are long and interminable, and Wonderweiss can not count the passing of time between Aizen Sousuke's arrival into his life and his own transformation into an Arrancar. He spends his nights in Las Noches, avoiding the Espada and the Números; these Hollows are strange to him and he is ever wary of attack.

Then, one night when the shadows are as deep on the white-washed walls as black paint, he comes, desiring words.

"Tell me, Wonderweiss-san." Standing with his back against the wall, Aizen seems to melt into it, flicker with the light like some chimera. "Do you know why you are here?"

Those wide, guileless eyes stare up at him; Wonderweiss sits still on his small bed pressed up against the wall—_Such luxury,_ he remembers musing absently when he first sat upon the mattress; for one used to slumbering on the sands this is indeed a luxury.

"No, Aizen-sama. I don't."

That smile comes again; Wonderweiss is still trying to fathom the danger of it. "No, you shouldn't, since I haven't told you. There is a man, Wonderweiss-san, among the Shinigami, more dangerous than any other. If he were to set his will against us directly he could destroy us by expending only the most minimal amount of energy."

Wonderweiss begins to wonder exactly where Aizen is going with his words, and doesn't hesitate to ask. "Aizen-sama, how am I relevant to this?"

Now, the smile is so black that it douses the darkness and makes it seem faded. Wonderweiss does not register the need to be afraid of this thing; only stares at it, deadened and fascinated. Again, caught under the spell of the Shinigami with moonlight in his soulless eyes.

"There is a procedure I would like you to undergo. I promise, it won't hurt a bit."

.

But he lied. He always lies, though Wonderweiss only discovers this as he writhes on the floor.

Wonderweiss Margera's soul is snuffed out as a candle burning down.

Not dead, but gone. Extinguished.


	190. Track Marks

**Title**: Track Marks**  
Characters**: Ikkaku, Unohana, Nemu (mentioned)**  
Summary**: "I would like to know why, if you don't mind."**  
Pairings**: implied Ikkaku x Nemu**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: Humor, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 270**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Wait a moment."

Ikkaku winces, face scrunching up in an expression that could easily be mistaken for physical pain. He had hoped—and hope now, he realizes, is futile and _dead_—that he might be able to get away without Unohana noticing.

The captain stands from her desk, and Ikkaku can't help but marvel at how tall she seems when she does so—of course, she seems that way to everyone; Unohana is a relatively small woman but everyone seems to forget that pretty quickly once she chooses to make her presence known.

"Yeah, Unohana-taicho?"

She smiles kindly and Ikkaku knows he's _never_ going to hear the end of this if she asks the question he's expecting her to ask.

And Unohana does not disappoint.

"Madarame-san, I was wondering if you could tell me _why_ exactly you seem to have needle marks in your arms, since I know from your medical history that you have no history of drug abuse."

Ikkaku squeezes his eyes shut and know now that his dignity has taken a nosedive and will soon crash to the ground in a horrific, fiery death. But he also knows that Unohana will accept nothing less than the truth, and she'll know if he's lying.

So there's nothing for it, but to kill his dignity now and get it over with.

"Nemu wouldn't leave off 'til I agreed to help her with an experiment," Ikkaku relates sourly. "I didn't bother to ask what that experiment involved."

Personally, Ikkaku hopes that Unohana is the _only_ one who ever finds out that Ikkaku got bowled over so easily by a woman.


	191. For Your Own Good

**Title**: For Your Own Good**  
Characters**: Ikkaku, Yumichika**  
Summary**: Ikkaku truly hates having to do this.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Friendship, General, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **Nicky Eira**.**  
Word Count**: 901**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Ikkaku starts to take notice of Yumichika's absence after two days have gone by. It might not have taken him so long, but the absence of any other suitable training partner has driven him to take especial notice of the fact that Yumichika isn't there; conversely, if so many Shinigami hadn't been missing from the training ground, it would probably have taken him a lot longer to notice that Yumichika is nowhere to be found.

Just for a moment, Ikkaku wonders if maybe he should have noticed his friend's resounding absence sooner. He pushes these thoughts aside quickly with an uncomfortable shove.

_How the hell am I supposed to notice when Yumichika's not around? I haven't got time to be noticing these things; Yumichika can take care of himself._

No, he's not feeling guilty.

Not feeling guilty at all.

…Or maybe he is. Just a little bit.

Leaning against a tree that stands alone in the dusty courtyard, Ikkaku stares at the little row of square-shaped second story windows, specifically the one where he knows Yumichika will be.

Ikkaku groans.

There's nothing for it. Though Ikkaku's sure that if Yumichika had died he'd be able to smell something by now, he figures he probably needs to check, just in case.

His conscience is going to kill him some day.

It's a small matter to heave himself up from the tree, trudge to the bland, forbidding, stereotypical British nightmare school-esque officer's dormitories, and march up the flight of stairs to the second floor. Where the other rooms can be told, just from their doors, to be in varying states of disrepair, Yumichika's is neat and well cared for. The plaque on the door gleams as if regularly polished and, considering it's Yumichika's, it probably is.

Ikkaku presses the door open with unnecessary caution, wondering if the musty-sickly sweet smell of decay will hit his nose when he does.

"Yumichika?"

Though no smell that he can determine wafts out, Ikkaku's hairless eyebrows still knit together when he gets no reply from the quartering that more resembles a tiny apartment than anything else. Yumichika isn't here after all, it seems, dead or alive (As alive as a Shinigami can be, of course).

Ikkaku frowns as a suspicion creeps slowly up on him. Slamming Yumichika's door shut (not out of any particular instance of frustration but rather out of force of habit—slamming doors can be _such_ a great stress reliever), Ikkaku starts down the hall towards the captain's and lieutenant's offices at the other end of the second floor.

Yachiru's is empty. That's not unusual, considering how little time the young girl actually spends there; she's usually out and about, terrorizing whatever hapless Shinigami she can find. Even Mayuri. _Especially_ Mayuri.

Then, Ikkaku hears something from inside his captain's office. A weird scratching noise.

Being careful not to fling the door open, in case it's Kenpachi he's hearing, Ikkaku peeks inside.

"Yumichika? What the hell are you doing in here?"

Yumichika is sitting—quite alone—at the captain's desk, occasionally dipping a metal stylus in ink as he fills out paperwork.

"What does it look like?" Yumichika's voice seems just a little… nasal to Ikkaku's ears as he unceremoniously steps over the threshold of his captain's office and pulls the door shut behind him; Yumichika doesn't look up. "The division's paperwork of course."

Ikkaku stands in front of the desk and feels bizarrely as though he's a raw recruit who's been sent to his captain for some infraction… _again_. Arms folded across his chest, frowning, he asks, "What are you doing that for? Zaraki-taicho gets the paperwork done."

Yumichika looks up at him, and squints his eyes as though the late afternoon light from the outside hurts them—the result of being inside for two days, or so Ikkaku thinks at first. "Zaraki-taicho isn't here. He's at the hospital. The flu, I think; a lot of the Shinigami have caught it."

_Including you_, Ikkaku thinks, brow furrowing. On closer inspection, Yumichika's face looks paler than usual; his eyes are bloodshot and red-rimmed, his nostrils tinted scarlet. The phlegmy cough that comes a moment after his words confirms it.

"So do you, it looks like," Ikkaku points out roughly, nearly squirming in discomfort; this is a… _new_ position for him. "You should probably get checked out, Yumichika."

The Fifth Seat shakes his head irritably, waving his hands around at all the stacks of paperwork for emphasis. "I can't, Ikkaku. Do you have any idea how backlogged we are? Zaraki-taicho's indisposed, Kusajishi-fukutaicho's certainly not going to do it—nobody's got a _clue_ where she is, anyway—" Yumichika looks up to glare blearily at Ikkaku "—and I've never seen you so much as fill out a medical form. I had to do that for you when we were getting our immunizations, remember?"

Ikkaku chooses to ignore that comment and matches Yumichika's glare. "Yumichika, you've got to go to the hospital."

"I just said—"

"Okay, that's it." Ikkaku sighs. He _hates_ doing this; it always takes the fun clean out of life. "Yumichika, I'm pulling rank. As your superior officer, I am ordering you to report to the hospital."

Yumichika gapes at him.

Taking advantage of his dropped guard, Ikkaku puts a hand under his friend's elbow and drags him from the desk. "Come on. You need your shots before _I _get the flu too."


	192. Under the Bell Jar

**Title**: Under the Bell Jar**  
Characters**: Hinamori**  
Summary**: I suffocate the pass the time, and try to speak, but you don't listen.**  
Pairings**: onesided HinaAizen**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: Angst, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Soul Society arc**  
Timeline**: post-Deicide arc**  
Author's Note**: Forgive me, but I wanted a first-person account of Hinamori's tale. You may or may not like this. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 427**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

I wake each morning, the sun gleaming off my glass eyes, and revolve in place like a little ballerina on a track. Trapped under the bell jar, I draw no dust and can not breathe, suffocating with each moment to chase away the hours. I stay under here, under the scrutiny of the scientist's eye, a bizarre creature to be gawked at by unkind souls.

You think you know me, but you don't. You think you know my story, but all you know is the end that hasn't arrived yet. All you know is some wild conjecture that takes into account everything but the truth.

You don't know me. You know only your impression of me, carried by rumors and lies.

There are so many things I want to say.

I was in love with my captain. I was not the first, and I doubt that the cycle will fail to repeat itself as the centuries go down. But I would not have hesitated to kill him myself had I known him for what he really was. However, he was always veiled in shadow, and I was too trusting, far too naïve to see him for the spider-like reality of him, always spinning his webs, ensnaring victims with gossamer silk.

What is it you want to hear? I was a fool, a blind, naïve girl; all that an more. I let myself be manipulated by a puppet master; I was his pretty tool, something to draw the eyes of others away from him. While my heart beat I was his distraction, his diversion to throw everyone off him. When I was no longer useful to him, he tried to stop that heart beating.

I was his puppet, and he cut my strings.

My blood spilled on my hands and in every drop of blood to form a scarlet wave I saw the truth contained within. I knew what he was. I saw the truth in my blood and it broke me, like a willow wand snapped by cruel hands.

I was completely taken in by him.

But then, so were you.

These words are nothing. They have no meaning or value, since they are heard by no one. As much as I scream them, they are received only by glass, and you comprehend nothing.

For I am only the broken, pretty glass ballerina revolving on the spot under the bell jar. My smiles are made of blood-truths and born of pain. I suffocate to pass the time. I have no words.

You weren't listening to start with.


	193. Professional Enmity

**Title**: Professional Enmity**  
Characters**: Grimmjow, Ulquiorra**  
Summary**: They'd kill each other if they ever had the chance.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Hueco Mundo arc**  
Timeline**: Pre-Hueco Mundo arc**  
Author's Note**: If you can't hear the tongue-in-cheek humor in this I'm going to have to reach through the computer and smack you. Seriously. Can you imagine the way Grimmjow would react if he ever heard himself referred to as a "biting fly"? As ever, requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **Nicky Eira**.**  
Word Count**: 511**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Frankly, Grimmjow would kill Ulquiorra at the first opportunity, if he ever had the chance, which he laments will probably never happen (_So there _is_ some advantage to being Aizen's tame pet, after all_, he thinks with a sneer).

There's lots of reasons, really.

First off, Ulquiorra is stronger than Grimmjow. He's an obstacle to Grimmjow staging his long-cherished hostile takeover and running the place. To that end, Grimmjow has a simple plan. If he and Ulquiorra are ever alone in a hall together and Ulquiorra ever turns his back on him, Grimmjow has ever intention of gutting him from behind before Ulquiorra can react.

The only problem with that is that Ulquiorra _never_ turns his back on _anyone_.

Ever.

Second, Grimmjow just knows that Ulquiorra can not possibly be as strong as he's always implied. There's no way that scrawny, undersized kid can possibly be strong enough to take him on. _Someone's_ lying here and Grimmjow has every intention of finding out who it is.

Finally, Ulquiorra is an emotionless bastard, and Grimmjow finds that stone-cold poker face of his to be possibly the most infuriating thing in existence. He's just waiting for the day when he finally gets to wipe that emotionless stare off of Ulquiorra's face with the sharp end of a zanpakuto.

The feeling's mutual, considering Ulquiorra would wipe Grimmjow off the face of existence if he was ever allowed to, and his only regret is that he probably _won't_ be.

Grimmjow is to Ulquiorra something along the lines of a biting fly. Small, insignificant and annoying as Hell when it tries to burrow into the flesh. What it needs is a good smack to earth with the palm of his hand.

Loud, crude, and all-around unpredictable, Ulquiorra sees in Grimmjow someone who will be nothing but trouble. It seems as though his very existence is devoted to slowing down Aizen's ultimate plans.

He ought to just be put down. Ulquiorra would, admittedly, probably take a great deal of pleasure in being allowed to do this, more than he cares to admit. But if Grimmjow wants to behave like a rabid animal, then he ought to be dealt with like a rabid animal.

If Ulquiorra were Primera, he could probably dispose of him as he saw fit without incurring any punishment. However, Ulquiorra is _not_ Primera; he could have been if he wanted to be, but he didn't, preferring to operate beneath the radar. There are certain things about him that he would rather Aizen didn't find out, and being La Espada Primera would make these certain things considerably more difficult to hide.

So Ulquiorra can't kill Grimmjow. He still dreams about it night, though.

Needless to say, they don't like each other.

But God help the poor sap who ever finds himself wanting to be killed by _both_ Ulquiorra and Grimmjow.

Because as much as the two hate each other, all that enmity is likely to be thrown out the window, and said sap will find himself dead as a doornail before he hits the floor.


	194. Not Surprised At All

**Title**: Not Surprised At All**  
Characters**: Nnoitra, Neliel**  
Summary**: He only considers it for a moment.**  
Pairings**: NnoiNel**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: Angst, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Hueco Mundo arc**  
Timeline**: pre-Hueco Mundo arc**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 431**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Her delicate, honey-toned voice rankles just as much as it ever has, like sandpaper being shoved down his throat. "Is there something I can help you with, Nnoitra?" And the fact that Neliel apparently can be just as polite with an icy glint in her eyes as when she's cheerful only blackens Nnoitra's mood further.

A dark, ugly twist of a scowl meets Neliel's veiled, inscrutable gaze. "What the Hell makes you think I want anything, anyway?" Belligerence is an art form for Nnoitra, one that comes perfectly naturally to him.

The empty, ringing mockery of a queenly laugh echoes off the cavernous walls of the otherwise empty chamber. Neliel stares down at Nnoitra from her sitting position in a high, shadowy alcove, and gestures with one hand for him to join her.

"The fact that you've been standing there staring at me for the past ten minutes tends to indicate that you do want something. Why don't you come up here and tell me what it is?"

Just as piercingly incisive as always. Nnoitra has always wondered—_and has never been able to tell; there's no telling with Neliel_—if Neliel is aware of just how threatening a weapon that can be. It's likely she is; it would suit her to divine new ways to cut straight to the heart of him, whatever heart is left. Not that Neliel's ever needed to do anything but breathe to evoke the feeling of being rent asunder in Nnoitra.

Another might have considered her request and, for just a moment, so does Nnoitra. It would be so easy, to just go up there, sit with her, and be done with it, done with everything. Talk. Relinquish that burden on to someone else. Not have to labor under the weight of wanting so badly to die anymore.

But Nnoitra only considers it for a moment, and that moment dies like a snuffed-out candle.

He is a creature who must behave true to his nature.

In Nnoitra's nature is the desire always to do battle always to shed blood. The sort of nature that hopes, some day, to see his own blood laid out, a glittering spider web tapestry to depict his own suffering, how much he's gone through, and how glad he is, for it all to be over at last.

There aren't enough Neliels in the breadth of all existence to change that.

"Hell no."

Neliel nods, silently, and Nnoitra feels bile rise in his throat when he sees that she's not surprised. She didn't expect him to capitulate.

"I didn't think so."


	195. Disillusionment

**Title**: Disillusionment**  
Characters**: Kira, Isane**  
Summary**: They've both had their pedestals broken.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Angst, General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Soul Society arc**  
Timeline**: post-Soul Society arc, pre-Arrancar arc**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **IBelongWithTheCullens**.**  
Word Count**: 465**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

They've both had their pedestals broken, Isane's in the past, and Kira's now. Isane sighs a little, bites her lip, hopes that her bustling won't wake him up, and keeps on with her task.

Kira is asleep on the hospital bed before her; he's fallen asleep naturally, without any sleep aids for the first time, Isane understands, in nearly two weeks. Maybe the extreme exhaustion that must follow his all-nighters has finally hit him. That, at least, is what Isane hopes is the extent of it.

Kira was brought to the hospital this morning, somewhat unwillingly, by Shuuhei and Renji, both with a hand firmly under each elbow so as not to let him get away. The cagey, wary look on Kira's face was to Isane, who greeted them, very much like an alley cat who had suddenly been brought into an enclosed space. Like he was expecting the roof to collapse on him at any time.

Silence reigned then as it does now. Kira said nothing to Isane, only nodding yes or no to the simplest of her questions.

_Have you been getting enough to eat?_

This garners the sort of vacillating gesture to indicated "yes" by Kira's standards, but probably "no" by everyone else's.

_How about fluids? Have you been getting enough of them?_

The vigorous "yes" made Isane think that it was probably the _wrong_ kind of fluids.

_And sleep. Have you been sleeping?_

No.

Ahh… And Kira wouldn't let her do anything about it, shifting his arm away uncomfortably every time she tried to hook up an IV unit. Isane eventually had to tell him that it was for fluids and not for sleeping aids, and the sharp, stern tone of her voice made him relent, face coloring slightly.

She recognizes that face he's making now, in sleep. The disillusioned face.

They've had their pedestals broken. With Isane, it was just small things that made her come to grips with the fact that Unohana-taicho was neither perfect nor omnipotent. She doesn't always make the right choices, and she doesn't have all the answers. Though this came as quite a shock to a younger, more idealistic Isane, an Isane that still dreamed startlingly fantastical dreams, she sees now that it should have been obvious.

Isane wonders if Kira will ever come to that point. Will he ever come past the shock and the bereft grief? Past the feelings of abandonment? Past the lethargy, past the pain?

Will he ever come to terms with this? Or will he just stay in the shadowed state of numb disillusionment, forever?

Isane bites her lower lip until it draws blood, and looks down at the chart.

Tomorrow, whether Kira likes it or not, she's prescribing sleeping aids.

That's as much help as she can give him.


	196. Before Sleep

**Title**: Before Sleep  
**Characters**: Unohana  
**Summary**: Her thoughts on the edge of sleep.  
**Pairings**: None  
**Rating**: K+  
**Genres**: General, Drama  
**Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers  
**Timeline**: No timeline needed  
**Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.  
**Dedication**: Dedicated to **Nicky Eira**.  
**Word Count**: 436  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

It's been so long since she's slept in this bed instead of in a chair in her office that the feel of the soft mattress and pillow is utterly foreign to her. Again.

Unohana lays her head down on the pillow, and tries to sleep, but finds her mind filled with images and words from the day—this is invariably what happens when she tries to go to sleep _before_ she's reached the edge of exhaustion.

However, she _will_ sleep tonight, so Unohana resolves to sift through the images and the words until there are none left and her mind is merely a mist of blank exhaustion and lethargy.

She had two injured patients from the Eleventh Division. Unohana was surprised at the number of casualties from that division; six less than usual. They didn't track blood into the hospital like they usually did, either, and they were much more polite to her subordinates than the typical Eleventh Division Shinigami. _Maybe they're new_; that would explain a great deal.

The flu epidemic is spreading. Today, even Yamamoto was finally persuaded that he had to come in for his flu shot. Though he's never had the flu in his life and he is still in robust health, he's not getting any younger and Unohana would like for the soutaicho to be in charge for another five hundred years, at least. Thankfully, no one has died yet, though someone has ended up with pneumonia and Unohana's been praying to whatever deity will answer (she's not picky) that no one will end up dead. Predictably, Hanatarou's ended up with the flu, the first of the Fourth Division to be afflicted; he simply has no luck.

Unohana sighs slightly, and lies on her back on the simple bed. There's a soft scent of lavender in the air; she's been taking cuts of the plant and placing it in intervals around her quarters for the best part of eight hundred years now, and it's never failed to give a sweet, fresh smell to her quarters. Everywhere else smells of death to the one who has seen so much of it, but here, there is only the blank amnesia of aromatic flowers.

She can hear the clock ticking. If Unohana props up on her elbows, she knows it will be past midnight. It's less than six hours before she'll have to rise again.

Unohana slides back into the embrace of white bed sheets and a cool pillow. If she closes her eyes for long enough, the blank not-death of sleep will spread fingers over her, eventually.

And then there will be peace.


	197. Wandering Off

**Title**: Wandering Off  
**Characters**: Byakuya, Rukia, Hisana  
**Summary**: The current record is a week and a half.  
**Pairings**: ByaHisa  
**Rating**: K  
**Genres**: General, Drama, Friendship  
**Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Soul Society arc; AU  
**Timeline**: pre-manga  
**Author's Note**: This is an AU in which Hisana didn't abandon Rukia in Rukongai but instead took her with her when she started looking for a better life. As ever, requests are open and feedback is appreciated.  
**Word Count**: 492  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Rukia? Rukia! Rukia, where are you?"

There are none on the Kuchiki estate who can ignore the frantic cries of the estate's mistress, as she runs around the grounds, calling out again and again. Unlike her much younger sister, Hisana has never enjoyed what anyone could call robust health, and every minute or so she stops, gasping for breath, cheeks scarlet, bracing her hand against a wall or a tree trunk.

This is hardly the first time the servants have observed their mistress running herself to exhaustion, searching for her sister who has chosen to hide somewhere on the grounds of the estate.

Byakuya is searching too, though he is quieter about it, and he restricts his searching to the gardens. From experience, he knows that wherever Rukia is, it will probably be somewhere among the plants—she does very much enjoy being outside, since she's spent most of her life in that condition.

He has a fairly good idea of where to look.

In a particularly overgrown garden (he doesn't think any servant has been there to prune the plants in at least six years), Byakuya picks his way through the somewhat treacherous path, until he comes to a particularly dense bush, it's long branches stretching out like clutching fingers.

Byakuya comes to his knees, and comes to extend a hand to brush some of the branches away.

…And finds himself face to face with his eleven-year-old sister-in-law with a grave expression plastered to his face. "Good morning, Rukia." It's a little difficult to keep a straight face at the sight of her, knees pulled up to her chest and face just a little drawn and nervous at the prospect of being caught.

She smiles weakly. "Hello."

Byakuya has never bothered to ask Rukia why she, from time to time, chooses to put the estate in an uproar by finding some place to hide and refusing to come out until someone finds her. It's private, he's very sure, and Rukia probably wouldn't answer if he asked. Byakuya can form his own conclusions, anyway.

The shaky scolding that will surely follow is Hisana's responsibility, anyway.

"I think," Byakuya says to her, very quietly, "that it's time to come out, Rukia."

She nods, quietly, and starts to crawl out.

Byakuya extends a hand to help steady her as she stands and, grasping his hand, Rukia stands, then brushes dirt away from her skirt.

"I think it's time to find a new hiding place, sister."

It's at this point that Hisana spots them. Rukia winces, and Byakuya looks on at the sight, and wonders how long it will be before Hisana's reproaches wear off and Rukia, despite knowing how frantic her sister gets whenever she disappears (perfectly natural, considering the lengths Hisana had to go to, caring for her in Rukongai), and wanders off again.

Rukia's current record is a week and a half.

Byakuya's fairly certain she's going to break it next time.


	198. Past Versus Present

**Title**: Past Versus Present  
**Characters**: Yumichika, Kenpachi, Ikkaku, Yachiru (current), Yachiru (original; alluded to)  
**Summary**: So, who was the original Yachiru? Yumichika tries to find out.  
**Pairings**: None  
**Rating**: K+  
**Genres**: General  
**Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers  
**Timeline**: No timeline needed  
**Author's Note**: I feel the need to note that I will never do anything but allude to the original Yachiru (I do believe that the original was also a she). It works better to have an aura of mystery concerning just who she was. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.  
**Word Count**: 647  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

It's Yumichika, in place of anyone else, who first discovers that his captain named the little girl who, frankly, seems linked to him at the hip, after someone else. So he didn't just pull that name out of thin air; so the name "Yachiru" did mean something to Zaraki Kenpachi when he bestowed it on the little pink-haired girl he found out in Kusajishi, after all.

Naturally, Yumichika gets curious.

.

"Zaraki-taicho, you said you named Kusajishi-fukutaicho after another woman named Yachiru, didn't you?"

The captain of the Eleventh division, sitting against a tree trunk too small for his back with an opaque sake bottle in one hand, noticeably stiffens when asked this question. Yumichika is standing about a yard away from him (out of respect for his position) and notices immediately; he wonders if he shouldn't back up just a little bit, for the sake of his health. Getting out of range of Kenpachi's nameless zanpakuto would probably be a good idea.

At first it looks like Kenpachi isn't going to answer. Then he nods, slowly. "Yeah. Come to mention it, I did."

Seeing that he probably isn't going to end up eviscerated in the course of pursuing this topic of conversation, Yumichika takes a single step forward and decides to opt for being forthright. "Who was she?"

Kenpachi turns a narrowed eye on Yumichika. "None of your business," he enunciates clearly, with enough finality in his voice that Yumichika knows better than to press the subject.

.

"What… the hell… does it matter?" Ikkaku half-shouts between sword strokes in the air; his shouting comes not from anger but from the fact that it's the only decibel level he's capable of speaking at during battle or sparring.

Yumichika ducks Ikkaku's blade—he's used to doing that, and being smaller than his friend he knows full well that a frontal assault on Ikkaku isn't going to work—and replies. Unlike Ikkaku, Yumichika's voice is perfectly cool. "Why shouldn't I be curious? The woman was obviously important to Zaraki-taicho, if he named Kusajishi-fukutaicho after her."

Yumichika swings at Ikkaku but misses narrowly; his zanpakuto sings in the air. Ikkaku returns with several furious swipes of his zanpakuto that meet only with air. His eyes dart around the dusty courtyard, and he sees no one. A growl escapes his mouth; Yumichika's breaking the rules again. "Don't you think you're getting in over your head?" Ikkaku calls bluntly, panting and sweating.

Something cold and sharp tickles the back of Ikkaku's neck. He whirls around, and Yumichika is there, shaking back sheets of fine black hair and smiling triumphantly. His outstretched zanpakuto comes to rest on Ikkaku's shoulder, quivering against a vein in his neck. "The only one in over his head is you. Now go get the sake. I'll be waiting."

.

Small teeth nibble against one of his fingers even though Yachiru's asleep. Yumichika sighs just a little bit; he wasn't supposed to be stuck with babysitting duty today but Moriyo was sick so it has fallen to him.

Yachiru's finally fallen asleep after several hours of running around like a manic little hummingbird, her head in his lap; Yumichika was just a little worried about that for a while.

Yumichika had continued his inquiries into the identity of the original Yachiru, but everyone he asked either didn't know or just wasn't talking. After a while, he had finally decided to ask Zaraki-taicho again. He can still remember the far away, indecipherable expression that came over his captain's face.

"_She's the one who taught me how to be a man. The lesson didn't stick at first, but it is what it is."_

Yumichika has no idea why Kenpachi chose to tell him that.

Now, he rubs a hand over Yachiru's soft pink hair.

That name she carries, Yumichika decides, is a big one to have to live up to.


	199. Prospects are Bleak

**Title**: Prospects are Bleak  
**Characters**: Yamamoto, others mentioned  
**Summary**: Yamamoto fears for the future of Seireitei.  
**Pairings**: None  
**Rating**: K+  
**Genres**: General, Drama, slight Humor  
**Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers  
**Timeline**: pre-Soul Society arc  
**Author's Note**: Longest one I've ever written, woo-hoo! Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.  
**Word Count**: 1125  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Yamamoto takes a moment one day to look over the line of his possible successors, and comes off from his examination of most of the list finding himself shuddering, and fearing for the future of Seireitei and Soul Society itself, given who he has to pick from.

He's not getting any younger. He knows that quite well, even though he feels just as strong, just as hale and hearty as he did a thousand years ago. The fact that Unohana was finally able to persuade him to get a flu shot, with the recent—thankfully mostly subsided—flu epidemic running around Seireitei, has only confirmed his fears.

Yamamoto knows he won't be around forever. But with the people he's got to choose from as a replacement, he's afraid that he might _have_ to be around forever. Or at least another five hundred years, until someone comes along or someone _else_ matures enough.

He gets another shudder when he goes over the list again.

Second Division Captain: Soi Fong. She's a skilled tactician and could probably bring any power struggle within the ranks of the Gotei Thirteen to a swift (if bloody) halt with her understanding of how these things work (She herself wrested control of her division from the last captain, the one who succeeded Shihoin Yoruichi). However, she has emotional issues that could make a shell-shocked war veteran look absolutely normal by comparison, and she's given to pettiness and extreme cruelty when angered.

Zaraki Kenpachi is, by the very definition of the office he holds, the strongest swordsman in all of Seireitei. If it came down to a plain sword fight with nothing else to bolster abilities, Yamamoto knows that he himself would be beaten. But this newest Kenpachi has no understanding of anything but the sword and of bloodshed; he can't even _hear_ his zanpakuto! And there's a reason that the keys to the big chair should never be left to anyone from the Eleventh Division.

Kurotsuchi Mayuri? Yamamoto can almost laugh at the thought of _him_ being the soutaicho. Half the Shinigami in Seireitei would be dead or deformed beyond recognition within a week. Completely unacceptable.

Ichimaru Gin is immediately struck from the list too. He's not exactly what anyone would call a model citizen, and his penchant for mischief and manipulation to the point of inducing nervous attacks in his high-strung lieutenant bodes ill for his ability to lead a military organization.

Tousen Kaname and Komamura Sajin won't work either. The former isn't exactly one of the more powerful captains, and even though Yamamoto respects his ability to overcome his disability, the fact stands that the man is totally blind, and furthermore that there's revenge seething in his heart. And as for the latter, he lacks the self-confidence even to take that mask from his face; how could he lead the Gotei Thirteen?

Kyouraku Shunsui: too irresponsible, too often drunk. Yamamoto only has to take one look at Shunsui's young lieutenant to know who's _really_ in charge in the Eighth Division (And if Ise Nanao were a few centuries older and at captain-level, he'd have no problem making _her_ his successor).

Ukitake Juushiro… If he were in better health, Yamamoto would seriously consider him for the position. But the soutaicho can't be someone who spends half the year on medical leave and is ready to keel over dead at any second.

Kuchiki Byakuya and Hitsugaya Toshiro are both too young. They would both, Yamamoto readily admits, make good soutaichos; they're law-abiding and just (at least in his view of the words), and they both function as capable administrators. But neither have the experience needed to run an organization the size of the Gotei Thirteen, and neither have the respect of everyone around them that comes with centuries of experience. Hitsugaya himself is still regarded as a joke by the wide majority of the Gotei Thirteen; the only reason Byakuya isn't treated the same way is because he could readily kill anyone who tried. And Hitsugaya is prone towards rash decisions at times (time would run it out of him, but Yamamoto hasn't got that sort of time), while Byakuya seems to have completely frozen over since the death of his wife; still more reasons not to consider them, along with their inexperience.

The only ones, Yamamoto realizes, who could possible replace him and do so effectively would be Unohana Retsu or Aizen Sousuke.

Unohana definitely qualifies as far as experience, power and administrative capacity goes. She is fair-minded and reasonable, and has the respect (and at times fear, justifiably) of the entire Gotei Thirteen. However, the name of the Fourth Division itself is not one that commands respect; if anything, the Fourth Division is the _least_ respected and the most downtrodden in the Gotei Thirteen. The Division in charge can't be the one nobody respects except when they're sick or in need of bandages.

Momentarily, Yamamoto wishes, almost despairingly, that Yoruichi had never deserted her post. For all that she was fond of mischief-making Yoruichi would have been _perfect_ for the job.

So that brings Yamamoto to Aizen. There's more than a little mystery to that man, and Yamamoto doesn't like mysteries. The previous captain of the Fifth, Hirako Shinji… Well, Yamamoto knows what happened to him, and he can't help but think that it's a little suspicious how smooth the path to the captaincy was for Aizen after that.

But beyond that dash of mystery, there's very little in Aizen that can be used as a complaint. Though he too is young he's not nearly as young as Byakuya or Hitsugaya, and his serene gravity adds years to his countenance. He's renowned for being everything a good captain should be: kind when the situation demands it, stern when he needs to be, wise, scrupulously fair and unfailingly just.

Aizen Sousuke, Yamamoto thinks with approval, would—will—make an excellent soutaicho when the time comes.

He is very… _mild_, though. Mild and unassuming, enough so that he had to be begged to become the captain of the fifth after Hirako Shinji's departure and Yamamoto's not sure that he'd reach out and grab the position of soutaicho if he saw the opportunity.

Yamamoto sighs gloomily as he goes back to his paperwork.

His options, as he sees it, are thus: a sick man; a drunkard; a petulant woman whose maturity levels never peaked beyond adolescence; a bloodthirsty man of battle; a child; a psychotic lunatic; a blind man; a malicious trickster; a young noble with his heart weighed down with ice; a walking, talking canine with self-esteem issues; a woman from a division no one respects; and a mild man shadowed with mystery.

Everything's gonna go to _Hell_ when he bites it.


	200. Is It Unnatural?

**Title**: Is it Unnatural?  
**Characters**: Lisa  
**Summary**: This is the only constant.  
**Pairings**: None  
**Rating**: T  
**Genres**: General, Angst, Drama  
**Warnings/Spoilers**: vague spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc  
**Timeline**: post-Turn Back the Pendulum arc, pre-manga  
**Author's Note**: And I am officially at two hundred entries. Incredible, isn't it? Okay, maybe not really, given my record, but still… Anyway, if you've been reading past entries, then you know my theories. Take that as you will here. As ever, requests are open and feedback would be really appreciated.  
**Word Count**: 683  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

In the human world, Lisa knows of only one constant. Everything else may change as often as the sun chooses to rise and to set across the dome of the world, but this, at least, will always be certain.

Lisa can't stand the sight of a smooth dome of a pregnant belly, nor the cries of an infant wailing for its mother. The presence of a baby, a mother and her newborn child, is still enough so many years later to make her own ears ring and her stomach churn and her throat fill with bile that sometimes subsides and sometimes doesn't.

It's simply not to be borne.

Sitting alone in a hotel room, perched on the bed with the lights doused to low, dark golden depths, Lisa will listen to the street sounds outside on the night road, all the world still sparkling and glistening wet with the recent rain. If she hears a baby crying, a weird, thin wailing that seems to fly over miles to reach her ears, she's brought back to the memories of her own pregnancy.

It was so long ago. Rukongai was harsh and savage but easier to bear in the company of those whom she was capable of loving.

Then, her husband died. He hadn't been anyone important; a menial laborer, a simple man who didn't dream of better places, but only of how to put food on the table for his wife and mother. And two weeks after he was laid to rest Lisa woke up one morning so nauseous that she wasn't even able to get outside before being violently ill.

Her mother-in-law was alienated from her in her still all-too-fresh grief; she was not of any assistance to her, nor could she be.

Lisa spent the long, cold, utterly dark nights of winter with a blanket bundled over her flame and a pitifully small fire sputtering at the grate, each gust of wind that seeped in through a crack in the wall threatening to extinguish it. She tried not to look at the fire, having almost completely convinced herself that if she did she would see familiar, spectral shapes with lean, lithe forms dancing in the flames.

As the snows began to melt and the weather warm, her abdomen began to swell and expand as though she were hiding a melon beneath her clothes. The most swelling Lisa ever experienced outside of her belly was a slight thickening at the ankles and nothing else.

And still, there was no anticipation or waiting in her heart. Just a sense that this would go on forever, until there was no more life left in her.

Finally, in the blazing heat and choking humidity of midsummer, her water broke. Labor took no more than a few hours; it was, as Lisa's mother-in-law, now out of seclusion, said, a remarkably easy birth.

The child was placed in her arms.

And she felt nothing.

No sense of kinship to this tiny, pulsating mass of life. No sense that she had labored for nine months with this creature inside her. It could have been a stranger's child in her arms; Lisa found herself incapable of the immediate love that every woman agreed a mother was supposed to feel for her child.

She didn't know if she was the unnatural one, or if just the rest of them were, and that the truly deviant thing was to immediately love a creature that had done nothing to deserve her love.

So she left. Left as soon as she was able to walk, her child bawling in her mother-in-law's arms, and just left. No set path, just started walking.

Eventually, that path took Lisa again to Seireitei, and back to the life of a Shinigami, where emotions and experiences like this could be so thoroughly buried that they could never be found again.

And it was lost, until the past found her.

Now, all is different.

Lisa shuts her ears against the crying of an infant as the screams pierce her heart like a sword, and wonders if maybe she wasn't wrong.


	201. Learning to Play

**Title**: Learning to Play**  
Characters**: Nanao, Rangiku**  
Summary**: Of course it would be something like that.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Friendship**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 364**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"I will readily admit that I am gifted with a wide range of skills. But frankly, I don't think I can help you here."

Nanao can't help but raise an eyebrow at the scene she plays witness to now—Rangiku sitting helplessly on the floor of her office, a shogi board in front of her and the pieces scattered around her, glimmering in the afternoon sunlight. Nanao starts to gather them up as a force of habit, placing them back into Rangiku's easy reach.

Rangiku winces and stares desperately up at her. "But can't you help me? I need someone to teach me how to play shogi!"

It's the sheer desperation in her voice that keeps Nanao from leaving. The dark-haired girl sighs long-sufferingly, knowing that she's somehow gotten roped into _another_ of Rangiku's schemes, and sits down in front of her friend.

"Matsumoto-san." Nanao tries to keep her voice as gentle as possible, but she can't keep the bite of irritation out of it. "I don't know how to play shogi; I've never had much time for it. I don't see how I can help you. Now," she goes on, "you've never showed much of an interest in the game before; what's changed?"

Rangiku shrugs cagily, her eyes flicking back and forth shiftily. "I… umm… I sort of made a _bet_, with Hitsugaya-taicho." It's plain this confession is embarrassing in the extreme. "If I lose, I have to do all of his paperwork and mine for a month."

_Oh, of _course_ it would be something like that_. The temptation to roll her eyes is now enormous. Nanao would leave and forget she ever had this conversation, and take an aspirin later when the headache that accompanied memory refuses to leave, but Nanao knows from bitter experience just how difficult it is to do both the paperwork of a captain and a lieutenant and keep things up to date.

Nanao sighs gustily and starts looking for a set of instructions. "Did this thing come with instructions? This is probably going to take a while."

…

"Matsumoto-san? When did you need to learn shogi by?"

"The day after tomorrow, as a matter of fact."

"_Great_."


	202. Sneak It In

**Title**: Sneak It In**  
Characters**: Hitsugaya, Rangiku**  
Summary**: Conversations over chicken broth.**  
Pairings**: onesided HitsuHina**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Friendship, Angst**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: vague spoilers**  
Timeline**: post-Soul Society arc, pre-Arrancar arc**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 474**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

The first thing Hitsugaya is aware of when Rangiku opens the door is the mouthwatering aroma of chicken wafting from the bag under her arm.

To his raised eyebrow, she grins and says, "I brought you some real food. Unohana-taicho said it was okay," she assures him, "since you're going to be released soon anyway."

For a moment, Hitsugaya stands on protocol—Rangiku's probably lying to make him feel better and if hospital rules states "No outside food in the hospital", Hitsugaya's going to abide by the rules—but then the smell of the chicken and his own aching stomach win him over and he gives in. "Hand some of that over here, Matsumoto."

Rangiku chuckles and sits down on the bed—Hitsugaya's being so short means she doesn't have to look out for his legs when she sits—, opening the brown paper bag as she does so.

There are two cups of chicken broth in them. Personally, Hitsugaya would have preferred something perhaps a bit more solid but it smells so good that he isn't complaining—and he doesn't think he could down solids if he tried at the moment.

"So." Rangiku at least has the grace to allow him a few minutes of uninterrupted eating, Hitsugaya has to give her that—but he wishes she had allowed him a few _more_. "How are you doing?"

Hitsugaya sniffs between mouthfuls of broth. "Didn't you ask Unohana-taicho?"

"Well yes, but she can only tell me so much."

To this, Hitsugaya can only shrug. "Eh, can't complain. It was worse beforehand," he admits, "so being able to breathe without chest pains is a major improvement." He feels like he can't safely lodge any sort of complaint against the treatment he's received—not without Unohana-taicho hearing it, anyway. Not that there's much to be complaining about to begin with, unless Hitsugaya wants to complain about how scratchy his bandages are.

They continue on eating in silence, and Hitsugaya eventually becomes aware of Rangiku staring at him. When he looks up, her pale blue eyes are open very wide and, unusually, completely inscrutable. He couldn't see into her mind if he took a crowbar and prized her skull open.

He blinks at her, feeling a slight coldness pit in his stomach. "What?" If Hitsugaya sounds more like a child than a captain when he says this, he for once doesn't care.

Rangiku shakes her head. "Nothing. It's just…" She breaks off.

_Oh, boy._ "Hinamori's alright?" Hitsugaya finds himself studying her face intently for a reaction.

The tall woman nods, and shifts her shoulders uncomfortably. "About the same." Her long hand flutters in the air like a nervous bird. "Listless, pale, tired."

Hitsugaya mirrors her nod, trying to behave as though this is nothing but ordinary news. "Has she… asked for me, at all?"

"No, she hasn't."


	203. Nice Company

**Title**: Nice Company**  
Characters**: Hiyori, Shinji**  
Summary**: Decent company, at last.**  
Pairings**: Shinji x Hiyori**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Friendship, Humor, Romance**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Timeline**: post-Turn Back the Pendulum arc, pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 698**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"So what the Hell's the matter with you?"

Bluntness and profanities are for them the language they have always spoken in, not so much a sign of hostility as much as normality. When Shinji and Hiyori are spitting and swearing at each other, all is well. It's when they speak to each other politely or in a way even remotely resembling courtesy that others around them ought to start worrying.

Hiyori, sitting in the crook of a tree branch, glares sullenly down at Shinji, saying nothing as he cups his hands over his mouth and shouts up at her. This is unusual; usually, Hiyori will at least come with some sharp, snappish retort to invasive questioning, even if she won't otherwise acknowledge his presence. But today she is silent, and Shinji (who is _not_ a mind reader, as he almost constantly has to remind people), brow furrowing, stares up at her as if trying to bore into her soul.

Then comes another unusual action, though this will just prove to be a day for them. Shinji, not by any means a paragon of caution and prudence but usually possessed of enough common sense not to approach Hiyori when she's in a mood, swings himself up into the huge tree, getting long legs over the branches with some difficulty.

Shinji only really starts to get worried when Hiyori doesn't immediately try to shove him out of the tree.

"Seriously, what's up with you?" Shinji huffs, cheeks still red from exertion; he's out of practice with this sort of thing. "I figured out where you were staying but you wouldn't answer any of my calls." A peevish note enters his voice. "Not that that's weird for you, but you could at least scream something _nice—_" the word 'nice' is spoken dripping sarcasm "—at me over the line."

Hiyori snorts and refuses to even look at him, instead focusing her moody gaze on a building beyond the tree.

She's a little angry at him.

Okay, she's _always _angry at him, and today Shinji isn't even the primary source of Hiyori's ire.

There are a lot of sources, to be honest. For one, there's the amount of air pollution on the United State's west coast to contend with, along with that obnoxious woman at the front desk of the motel who had the nerve to ask Hiyori what "such a little girl was doing travelling by herself" (Hiyori hates having to use this excuse, but finally she just sucked it up and told the woman she had a medical condition), and the fact that the walls of her motel room are so thin that she can hear the sounds of a couple having sex in one of the next rooms every. Single. Night.

Shinji doesn't even begin to rate on her radar of annoying things after that.

If anything, Hiyori realizes, mortified, she's actually kind of glad to see him.

Decent company for the first time in months.

The feeling evaporates just a little bit when Shinji starts to insistently poke her arm with one finger. "Hellooooo? Are you awake? Earth to Hiyori, please come in—"

"_Shut up_!" Hiyori screams at him.

A wide, unpleasant grin splits across Shinji's face as he brushes blond hair out of his eyes. "Finally, a reaction. Glad to see you aren't comatose after all."

"Oh, go to Hell."

At this, Shinji sniffs as if hurt (he's really not; that tendency towards theatrics is one of Shinji's most annoying traits), and starts to slide down the tree. "Well, I'll be seeing—"

His remark is cut short by two small hands shooting out, grabbing one arm and dragging him back onto the tree branch with her.

"Hiyori, what the Hell?"

She mumbles something inaudible, still keeping both hands firmly latched on Shinji's upper arm.

"Hiyori, leggo, I gotta—"

Hiyori bares her fangs at this point, to show Shinji what will happen if he tries to leave. Sullenly admitting defeat, Shinji leans back into the branch beside her.

The occasional grumbling about the stupidity of woman is met with a kick to the ribs that defies both gravity and the construction of Hiyori's bones.


	204. Apple Thief

**Title**: Apple Thief**  
Characters**: Shinji, Lisa**  
Summary**: He wasn't expecting to be K. O. ed by an apple.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Humor, Friendship**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Timeline**: pre-manga; pre-Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 779**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

It's summer again in Rukongai and Shinji couldn't be happier. Or more relieved for that matter, since it gets mighty cold in his tenement house in winter and the landlord gypped his tenants out of firewood—again.

Hirako Shinji is a thief by trade, an extremely poor thief who can't catch a break. He's had a tooth knocked out on more than one occasion trying to pick a pocket or swipe a bit of food or merchandise off of a vendor's stand. Recently, he has hit an all-time low; he hasn't been able to pull a successful job in nearly a month and a half. Now Shinji's actually had to resort to _honest_ work to survive; working out in the fields, and today's a day off, mercifully (Shinji's so badly sun burnt half the time that he can actually _hear_ his skin blistering now).

Today is one of those rare days off, and Shinji has every intention of enjoying it.

There's an apple orchard nearby that thrives in the humid, blazing heat—that and there's no one guarding the apples found there. The ground under his feet still soft from a recent rain, Shinji approaches the orchard, grinning hungrily. Never having been a good climber of huge trees without branches close to the ground, he starts looking around for a ladder.

And promptly gets beaned over the head with an apple.

"What the Hell!" Down on his back on the ground and more than a little dazed, Shinji glares up into the trees. No way an apple with that sort of velocity could have simply fallen out of the tree.

"Indeed." A low, slightly raspy but unmistakably feminine voice sounds from above and Shinji, now back on his feet, turns hotly glaring eyes in the direction of the voice.

Sitting high up in the bough of one of the apple trees, so high that Shinji's not even sure how she got up there, is a young woman with unkempt black hair. She's dressed in a worn, faded yukata and Shinji is struck by a contrast: her face and arms are heavily freckled and unevenly browned no doubt from long days spent laboring in the sun, but her legs, exposed from the knee, are white. Glass from spectacles winks down at him.

Shinji glares up at her. "You mind telling me what that was for?"

She shrugs languidly. "Tsukiyoshi-san hired me to guard his apples while they're ripening; that's what I intend to do. Thieves aren't welcome here; get out."

"Oh, come on! I'm starving!"

"Really? I couldn't tell. Why don't you show me some ribs?"

"You haven't got a clue who you're dealing with."

"A screaming loudmouth apple thief with a bad sunburn?"

Shinji feels his red face get, if possible, even redder. "You're one to talk about sunburns." It's hard to tell from this distance but he's pretty sure she's glaring at him now. Shinji winces and puts on his most pathetically pleading voice; it's not like he's ever had much dignity anyway. "Please! Just one apple! I promise I won't come back if you just give me one apple!"

A dubious note enters her voice. "They're not even ripe yet."

"I don't care."

She sighs long-sufferingly. "Fine." An apple is plucked from a nearby branch. "Tsukiyoshi-san won't miss just one. Catch."

.

Years later, they meet again, in Seireitei.

Shinji is walking from one class to the next at the Academy, truly and honestly minding his own business, when he hears a familiar voice from behind him. "So, still desperate for apples?"

Shinji whirls around and the girl from the orchard is smirking at him. She looks different when decently clothed and at least marginally well cared for. Her skin's uniformly pale now, her black hair washed and neatly braided. From close up, Shinji can see that her eyes are jade green.

He snorts, and she smiles slightly, as if this is some sort of routine for them. "Well, I'm not a starving artist anymore, so no."

A single black eyebrow quirks. "Not a starving thief, you mean?" With a playful gleam in her eyes on an otherwise impassive face, she leaves, red hakama rustling behind her.

_Well, that was… That was…_ Shinji is forced to ruefully concede find an appropriate word to describe the situation.

"Hey Shinji!" One of his friends comes running up, guileless brown eyes (really, Shinji _so_ loves corrupting the innocent, and this one's just too malleable for his own good) alight with curiosity. "Who was that girl?"

Shinji suppresses an evil grin and sighs theatrically. "My first love." He hopes his voice will carry far enough for her to hear.

"Wait… what?"


	205. Wrong Man to Rob

**Title**: Wrong Man to Rob**  
Characters**: Shinji, Yamamoto**  
Summary**: It was either join up or get incinerated.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Timeline**: pre-manga; pre-Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Author's Note**: This should be read _after_ the immediately previous chapter, _Apple Thief_. I just wanted to touch on how and why Shinji joined up with the Shinigami. I'm not specifying the timeline, only that it it's well over a hundred and fifty years before the Turn Back the Pendulum arc, but no more than four hundred years. Requests are open, and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 560**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

A frail-looking old man leaning heavily on a staff is the perfect mark, at least so Shinji thinks, and he ought to know. This one, just ahead of him in the crowded street, looks promising; his clothes are plainly woven linen but of noticeably good quality. No pauper could afford them.

_The old man's loaded_. Shinji grins briefly, then extinguishes his teeth so as not to arouse the suspicion of anyone around him. _I'll be set for a month with this take._

Shinji slips a deft, practiced hand towards the old man's coat pocket.

Then, his would-be victim turns around, grabs Shinji's wrist so tightly that he can practically hear his bones popping and fixes him in such a stern glare that Shinji, for the first time in his life, actually regrets engaging in the act of robbing somebody blind.

"And what exactly do you think you're doing?" the old man asks, in a rough voice dangerously quiet in the hot, bright clamor of the crowded street.

Shinji grins nervously at him. "Swatting a… horsefly away?"

Thus a hapless thief finds himself abruptly dragged off into an alley. Being absolutely positive he's being carted off to be unceremoniously shanked and killed, Shinji attempts desperately to catch the eye of someone, anyone who might be able to help him, but no such luck. It's as if he and this man are invisible.

_That's it for me. I always knew it'd end this way. Just another pollution smear in the river._

Thrust down on to an empty crate, Shinji wouldn't dream of trying to escape. His captor has the sort of sense of danger rolling off of him so thickly as to be overpoweringly palpable; if anything, Shinji's more likely to suffocate than get up and try to run away.

"So…" The stern glare in the elderly man's eyes are to Shinji strongly reminiscent of an angry schoolmaster, if he knew what a schoolmaster was; he's not even literate, let alone educated. "May I ask what you were thinking when you attempted to rob me back there?"

Shinji figures that since he's probably going to die anyway, there's nothing to lose in being straightforwardly honest. He leans back on the damp stone wall and meets his captor's gaze squarely. "I was thinking I've gotta eat somehow." Shinji rolls his eyes. "That's what you get, I guess, having even the slightest bit of spiritual energy."

At this, the old man narrows his eyes. His face is inscrutable in the patchwork of shadow and sunlight (the only sunlight filtering through comes through the thatched straw peeking out over the two rooftops of the buildings that make up the narrow alley); the dripping of water off of the straw suddenly becomes resounding in Shinji's ears.

Finally, he speaks. "Alright, young man, I'm going to make you a deal. If you come back with me, to Seireitei—"

Shinji glares at him. "No way I'm going there! I've heard about _those_ people." It doesn't occur to him that the old man is probably one of '_those_ people'.

"—I _won't_ incinerate you for trying to rob me."

Shinji gulps. He doesn't make too many claims on being a brave man, and death by burning sounds to him to be a _very_ ugly way to die.

"Yeah, yeah, sure."

Maybe being a Shinigami won't be so bad.


	206. Transition Incomplete

**Title**: Transition Incomplete**  
Characters**: Shinji**  
Summary**: He often wonders how he got here.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Timeline**: a year prior Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 828**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

It had either been agree with the old man or get incinerated. Of course, Shinji hadn't known at the time that the man whose pocket he was trying to pick was the head honcho of the Shinigami, hadn't had a clue until they got to Seireitei, but when he threatened to burn him to a crisp, Shinji believed him.

That had been only God knows how long ago, and now Shinji sits behind a desk of his own and, instead of robbing people blind for a living, he's now filling out paperwork and going on the occasional mission and avoiding Hiyori's vicious kicks.

Whenever Shinji has a moment to think, staring moodily (or downright murderously) at the ever-growing stacks of paper on his dusty desk, he has to ask himself one very important question.

_How the Hell did I end up here? How'd I end up captain of the Fifth?_

Valid question, all things considered. And Shinji isn't entirely sure how to answer that question.

When he came to Seireitei, he was an illiterate thief who spent half his time in the Academy (this was, of course, after having been taught to read by tutors; all prospects who come to Seireitei must pass a literacy test before they can be admitted into the Academy, and anyone illiterate is handed over to tutors to be taught how to read and write) either pulling pranks on the more odious teachers or stealing their expensive pens out from under their noses. He usually put the pens back after a day or two; they no longer held the novelty to them that they had had when he first laid eyes on them.

"_Do you intend on actually accomplishing anything at all?" Yamamoto somehow manages to come off as chiding and derisive at the same time. "Or should I have just cremated you in Rukongai so as to keep you from wrecking the standards of this institution for all time?"_

_That_ was just insulting. Shinji supposed he could be forgiven if he took offense to Yamamoto's increasingly scathing remarks concerning his progress.

Excelling in school was probably just Shinji's way of getting back at the old man. It had been highly amusing to watch the soutaicho's face slacken when he realized that the fair-haired boy from Rukongai who he had expected to drop out before long was suddenly making the highest marks in his class. With a nasty grin on his face Shinji proved to him that he could be perfectly intelligent when he wanted to be, when he had a mind to be.

After all, how did Yamamoto think Shinji had managed to fare as a thief and pickpocket for so many years without getting killed?

After the Academy, he'd been off the hook. He could have slacked off all he wanted. Shinji has no idea why he continued to excel after being stationed in the Fifth Division. Again, it might have all been a giant 'Screw you' to the old man, but Shinji likes to think he had dropped the grudge born of Yamamoto's insults by then.

And frankly, _no one's _really all that sure how Shinji ended up a captain. It might have simply been because he achieved bankai (and _that_ only happened because Shinji and Sakanade happen to enjoy their conversations), but that's not enough. A captain has to be responsible, diligent and, frankly, Shinji, at least on the outside, isn't. He's irresponsible and lazy, likes the ladies and his days off a little too much, and would set fire to every last scrap of his paperwork if he could.

But no one, except for one person, could ever see someone else in Shinji's place. Not even Yamamoto, and he certainly had his misgivings about allowing Shinji to take the position.

The thief is gone. He isn't coming back. His death was sudden, and went unnoticed until the day Shinji realized, half-startled, half-regretful, that he hadn't stolen anything or tried to in over a year. It's just as well, Shinji decides; there's no place for thieves in Seireitei, and those were skills he didn't really need anymore. He didn't need to be the thief anymore.

But the captain of the Fifth Division hasn't been fully born yet; he hasn't quite woken up and started his way towards what Shinji considers the death knell of a responsible life spent in long hours of filling out paperwork and overseeing training and only occasionally getting to stretch his legs and go on missions. He can't, until he knows how he got here.

To that end, Shinji hasn't got a clue. But he decides it doesn't matter, as he carefully slips out from behind the sea of paper, and escapes through the window to go find Shunsui and hit the bars again. Let Sousuke do the paperwork; he needs the practice.

Knowing how he got to his destination is for the moment unimportant.

Knowing that he's here is all Shinji needs to know.


	207. Arrogance Blinds You

**Title**: Arrogance Blinds You**  
Characters**: Aizen, Shinji**  
Summary**: It's hard to hide his glee, sometimes.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Timeline**: pre-Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Author's Note**: I've been doing a lot on Shinji lately, haven't I? Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 359**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Honestly, when coming to know the man that he calls 'taicho' as the man's lieutenant, Aizen Sousuke can't believe his good luck.

He came to Seireitei to apply to the Academy with a will and a heart full of purpose. Aizen has always told himself that he will succeed, no matter what the odds, but Hirako-taicho just seems to be going out of his way to make things easier for him.

And the most deliciously ironic aspect of all of this, is that Hirako-taicho can't touch him, has no idea what Aizen is, even though he looks at him with such suspicion. Aizen can find himself operating completely under the radar, all because his captain's very suspicion of him blinds him to the truth.

Truth be told, Aizen knows that his captain underestimates him. He knows how he ended up lieutenant too; Hirako-taicho wanted him where he could see him and keep an eye on him, and keeping Aizen swamped under with paperwork was in his view most likely a bonus. If he'd had any idea of what Aizen really is, he never would have put him at such a high-ranking position; no, what's more likely is that Hirako-taicho would have had him killed in some way or another, if he had any inkling of the truth.

There is nothing more dangerous, Aizen knows, than underestimating an opponent.

It's so perfect. And it's hard to hide his glee, sometimes, when Aizen thinks of how easy Hirako-taicho makes all of this for him. His arrogance blinds him to the truth; Hirako-taicho is confident that he has the full measure of him, so he'll never bother to investigate him more closely. Aizen takes the concept of hiding in plain sight to its logical conclusion in the presence of his captain.

He can work uninterrupted, untroubled. Hirako-taicho looks at him with what he believes to be knowing suspicion, but Aizen knows better. He knows that Hirako-taicho knows nothing, can never know anything.

His captain is ignorant, and Aizen is content.

He need not even work in the shadows, to hide his intentions from him.

After all, he works for a blind man.


	208. Too Careless

**Title**: Too Careless**  
Characters**: Shunsui, Lisa**  
Summary**: He had been so stupid, and there's no way to make up for it now.**  
Pairings**: past Shunsui x Lisa**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: Angst, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum, Fake Karakura Town and Deicide arcs**  
Timeline**: post-Deicide arc**  
Author's Note**: Something like this was once mentioned in a review, but this is a little different. Requests are still open, and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 563**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"So it never even occurred to you that I might have been one of the people you were condemning with your silence?"

Her voice is completely toneless and emotionless, as she sounds out the words, and Shunsui winces, finding himself desperately—insanely—wishing that there was some hint of accusation in Lisa's voice. This complete lack of turmoil, or sadness or anger, of _anything_ in Lisa's voice as she stares him down calmly from her perch on the wall is unbearable.

And at the time when the fatal events were taking place, so many decades past, it _hadn't_ occurred to Shunsui, not at all. It had never occurred to him that Lisa may have been one of the 'infected' he was informed of—if anything, he'd assumed that Lisa was just out for a late night of drinking and staying over with a friend (for platonic purposes or otherwise he didn't investigate too closely) and wrote off her absence that way.

It had been so much easier to keep silent, to not look at this too closely. Shunsui knew from long experience that if the Central Forty-Six got an idea in their heads they weren't going to let go of it; why try to fight the system?

Only after a few days, when Lisa didn't come back, did Shunsui start to think for the first time, that maybe one of the 'infected' had been his lieutenant, and that maybe he wasn't going to see her again.

The century that followed that realization was a long one, filled with self-recrimination and self-accusation and the settling in of guilt and remorse that would never be fully realized without a resolution. Not knowing was the worst: never knowing exactly what had happened to Lisa, never knowing why her bed was now empty or why she was no longer anything but memory to Shunsui.

He knows now. And every glance Lisa sends his way, coolly indifferent where it used to be anything but, but somehow just the same, only serves to hammer home for Shunsui just how stupid he was.

Shunsui knows he ought to have known better than to be so careless with the life of someone he loved in his hands.

There's no way to take it back now that it's been done.

There's no accusation in Lisa's voice—more's the pity—but there is some sort of challenge to it, at least to Shunsui's ears, and he's not sure whether it's that or some sort of bizarre shame that forces him to meet her gaze squarely. He'll look Lisa in the eye; he owes her that much.

"No." Shunsui won't try to save himself by lying, especially not when Lisa can see straight through him. "No, it didn't."

Her whole demeanor shifts to that of winter snow, and Lisa's jade gaze is utterly frigid as she holds him in it. "Ahh." No one's voice could be colder.

Or more pained.

Or more betrayed.

Shunsui can hear that pain, hear that betrayal. And he wonders, suddenly, how many sleepless nights Lisa had in exile, wondering if he knew who it was he was condemning.

Now she has her answer.

She wouldn't have been happy no matter what it had been.

And she won't forgive him. Shunsui knows, and Lisa knows, that there's nothing in this matter that can be forgiven.

He was just too careless.


	209. Guilt and Stains

**Title**: Guilt and Stains**  
Characters**: Shunsui, Nanao, Lisa**  
Summary**: He hadn't done enough for Lisa, and maybe he does too much for Nanao.**  
Pairings**: Shunsui x Lisa, Shunsui x Nanao**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: Angst, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Timeline**: post-Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Author's Note**: Okay, I am once again on a Shunsui-Nanao-Lisa kick. It may or may not last beyond this. As ever, requests are still open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 652**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Sometimes, when looking at her from a certain light, if he's not careful or if the sake's blurring his vision and the lines of her body, Shunsui can mistake Nanao for Lisa.

It's never a pleasant occurrence when it happens. Shunsui finds himself praying for the moment when Nanao will leave his presence, so he can shake his head and pinch his nose between the eyes and readjust his sight so he sees the present again, and not the past. With his head spinning, Shunsui for once doesn't reach for the omnipresent bottle of sake—he knows that it will be of no assistance in this situation.

If anything, the sake will only make everything worse.

It's not Nanao's fault. Shunsui will never consciously let on to what he sees if he can help it, because he knows it's not Nanao's fault, and because he also knows that if she ever found out about it, she would _assume_ that it was her fault somehow. Shunsui has no desire to do that to her; the girl has suffered enough.

But he can't help but blur the lines of the two women, and see a ghost long dead in one who lives and breathes now, standing in front of his desk, insistently pushing paperwork at him, and reminding Shunsui of Lisa in the simple act of breathing.

_Why do they have to look so much alike?_ Shunsui muses gloomily, his blood pulsing through veins at a rate slightly more sluggish than usual. That makes it even more difficult. _Why did she have to end up looking so much like Lisa?_

That's what makes it so easy to mistake Nanao for Lisa, what makes all of this so very hard. If Nanao didn't bear a natural resemblance to Lisa to start with, than maybe all of this guilt would still be here but wouldn't be so overwhelmingly strong as it is. Maybe Shunsui wouldn't feel as though he were constantly in danger of drowning.

They could almost be twins. Same blue black hair, same pale skin, same long-fingered, clever hands, same no-nonsense approach to Shunsui. The only difference that Shunsui can see is that Nanao's eyes are blue-violet as opposed to Lisa's cool jade and are shaped differently. Her face is formed with softer lines, and she is shorter, more slightly built, frailer to Shunsui's eyes—but the last could just be a colored perception due to Shunsui's guilt.

It's impossible sometimes, not to coddle her, even though Shunsui can see the resentment and the isolation growing in Nanao's eyes. He can see the way she withdraws from him and everyone else, trying to stand on her own with no hands out to catch her and just prove that she can do things on her own. Nanao does not want to be coddled. Shunsui knows that he's defeating himself in this, that in his efforts to protect Nanao he just ends up alienating her, but he couldn't stop himself if he tried.

And he's not trying, not really.

Lisa vanished, so many years ago.

She disappeared, under suspicious circumstances, and it's now, when Shunsui's suspicions about what has really made Lisa drop off the face of existence begin to eat him alive, that he starts to really get the impression that he should have done more.

Shunsui did nothing for Lisa, when he should have done everything.

He'll do enough for Nanao now, even if it amounts to too much for her liking. Even if it drives her away from him emotionally, makes her resent him for sheltering her and want nothing more than to free herself from his shadow. He's stained, tarnished, but at least he can do everything possible so that Nanao doesn't slip through the cracks the way Lisa did.

Shunsui will never find himself in the position of "I didn't do enough" again.

Never again.

Not if he can help it.


	210. Forgotten the Date

**Title**: Forgotten the Date**  
Characters**: Byakuya, Rukia**  
Summary**: He can't remember when her birthday is.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Family**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 202**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

It occurs to him one day that he doesn't know when Rukia's birthday is. He's sure he's read over her records at least once, but Byakuya for the life of him can't remember the date. Of course, given her history it's likely Rukia can't remember either and just came up with a date that suited her.

This bothers Byakuya; he's not entirely sure why. His grandfather was always forgetting what month his birthday was in and that never bothered him, nor did it bother Ginrei, for that matter. It was just a date, and they both knew it. If Ginrei ever forgot, he could just ask Byakuya.

But it does bother Byakuya now, and he knows better than to just ask Rukia when her birthday is. He knows his adoptive sister's personality; she's likely to take such an inquiry as a body blow to her self-esteem (Such a fragile thing, especially in her).

The sight of her face crumpling isn't one Byakuya can handle with a clean conscience.

He tells himself to look into Rukia's personal records in the afternoon after all the work's done at the Sixth Division, and to write it down so he won't forget again.

That should suffice.


	211. Ill Thought Words

**Title**: Ill-Thought Words**  
Characters**: Ukitake, Shunsui**  
Summary**: "I wasn't keeping count."**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Angst, General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: pre-manga; pre-use of the word "tuberculosis" as opposed to "consumption".**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 330**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Well buddy," Shunsui jokes weakly, "I think you've just broken some sort of record."

From his position prostrate on the couch in his office, Juushiro shoots a half-suspicious, half-curious look at his friend out of one eye, before propping himself up on the couch for a cup of the tea Unohana was so gracious as to brew for him—she swears it will soothe his throat, though honestly Juushiro can't detect that much of a difference.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Shunsui." If Juushiro's voice is a little cooler than usual, or a little sharper, he likes to think that he can be excused. Juushiro always tries to maintain a positive attitude, but when he's sick nigh unto death it can be a bit difficult. It's always been hard to have an even temper in the face of blood flecked on his mouth.

Shunsui shrugs. He's seated comfortably on the floor, and the way he averts his face from Juushiro's keen gaze makes the latter think that maybe Shunsui is rethinking his words. Then, Shunsui looks up and forced a grin on to his face, and Juushiro can see that however uncertain Shunsui is concerning his words, he'll say them anyway. "This is…" Shunsui pauses for dramatic effect "… This is, unless I am mistaken, the five-hundredth time you've been put on bed rest since we met."

For a moment, Juushiro can only stare at him.

His mind, of course, is working a bit faster than his body; that's always the way for Ukitake Juushiro and his consumption-ridden body. A sickeningly cold, hard feeling pits in his stomach and his lungs, and Juushiro knows that it doesn't have anything to do with the consumption.

"You'll have to forgive me, Shunsui… I wasn't exactly keeping count." Juushiro responds, hoarse and finding himself staring up at the ceiling. The tea cup is discarded, all pretense of energy abandoned.

Shunsui winces.

Juushiro doesn't try to stop him when he leaves.


	212. Old Pattern

**Title**: Old Pattern**  
Characters**: Ryuuken, Uryuu**  
Summary**: He counts himself a fool.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Angst, Family**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Arrancar arc**  
Timeline**: Arrancar arc**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 325**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

It's been a long time since they last laid eyes on each other, and, just for a moment, Ryuuken experiences what he likes to call a moment of weakness and wonders if things might be different this time around.

Moment of weakness?

Moment of _inexcusable idiocy_.

The darkness closes in from all angles, even with the flickering artificial light of street lamps overhead. With the malformed Arrancar dead and gone (not coming back, Ryuuken is satisfied to note; he's out of practice and for a moment he was afraid it was going to take a bit longer than he'd originally estimated), all is unnaturally quiet.

Of course, any sane animal would flee at the presence of a Hollow.

No one ever said Uryuu was particularly sane.

Uryuu says nothing at first, just stares at him, dumbfounded. There's something horribly familiar about that silence, but Ryuuken isn't prepared to identify it just yet.

For a moment, Ryuuken can't deny that he hopes it might be able to be different. He'd be lying if he were to try to assert that he relishes falling back into the same pattern the two of them shared for so long.

Then, he recognizes the expression in his son's eyes, the way he's looking at him.

Fear on top of resentment on top of ignorance on top of incredulity on top of _'What on earth are _you _doing here?'_ The expression of someone who has never understood, someone who has never _wanted_ to understand. Someone who would like to do nothing more than bolt, and only doesn't because he fears the consequences.

"That was unsightly of you."

_Pathetic_, Ryuuken thinks bitterly to hide any trace of disappointment.

He counts himself a fool for thinking things could ever change, before burying the thought, and falling back into the old pattern.

Ryuuken decides not to dwell on what it was that made him think that things _could_ be different, in the first place.


	213. High Heels

**Title**: High Heels**  
Characters**: Rukia, Rangiku, Nanao**  
Summary**: Rukia buys high heels, and returns them the next day.**  
Pairings**: alluded to IchiRuki**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Angst, Drama, General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: vague spoilers for Deicide arc**  
Timeline**: post-Deicide arc**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **Nicky Eira**.**  
Word Count**: 463**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

That Rukia is so quickly and easily taken into Rangiku and Nanao's fold is somewhat frightening to several people, not least of all to her brother, who knows both of the older women very well from their shared childhood (or what passes for a childhood in Soul Society), and fears the sort of activities they will draw his young adopted sibling into.

This, compared to what Byakuya's imagination is capable of drawing up, is without a doubt innocuous to the point of being painfully mundane.

Rangiku and Nanao are sitting on opposite ends of a couch, the latter with her legs folded up under her, as Rukia sits on the floor of Rangiku's bedroom and puts on the shoes she's bought—she wanted the opinion of the two older women on how they look on her.

Nanao pushes her glasses up her nose primly, surveying the scene before her. "Kuchiki-san, I'm not entirely sure what the purpose of this is. You don't really seem the sort to want confirmation on a choice of clothing before wearing it."

Rukia's small, nay, tiny face colors deeply, but she says nothing, and keeps on with getting the straps of the shoes fastened. Rangiku only smiles slightly, chin propped up on her closed fist, wondering what this is going to end up looking like.

After about half a minute of nibbling on her lip and worrying at her forehead Rukia manages to get the shoes on over her feet, and stands up.

Nanao raises a finely plucked eyebrow.

"Well." It's the lieutenant of the Eight Division who speaks first. "… They're quite, quite… _tall_, Kuchiki-san," Nanao supplies lamely.

Indeed. Rangiku can see that the high-heeled shoes Rukia's put on are at least two inches tall, if not taller. She's still quite tiny, painfully short, but she's noticeable taller than she was before. Rangiku laughs under her breath, seeing the breadth of Rukia's insecurities in this one fashion decision.

Nanao digs a little deeper. "Kuchiki-san, why on Earth did you buy them? I don't know of any situation in which you—"

In that moment, Rukia's whole personality, once dominated by a triumphant smile, takes a one hundred and eighty degree turn. Face closing off considerably and going slightly stormy, she sits back down and pulls the shoes off of her feet with the sort of viciousness best reserved for particularly stubborn Hollows.

Nanao's cheeks tinge pale pink, ducking her head apologetically, noticeably perturbed. "I didn't mean it like that…"

"They weren't comfortable anyway," Rukia mutters moodily, not meeting the eyes of either of the older women.

Rangiku winces, being considerably more knowledgeable into Rukia's motivations than Nanao.

She knows that the one person Rukia wanted to see her in these shoes, more than anyone else, never will.


	214. The Piercing

**Title**: The Piercing**  
Characters**: Shinji, Lisa, Hiyori, Hacchi**  
Summary**: How Shinji got his piercing.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Humor, General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: The question nags at me. And if it's not clear: I have nothing against Woodstock, but this is humor and no one is safe from my bizarre sense of humor. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 401**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

It started at Woodstock. Shinji was too high through most of Woodstock, but he knows that it started sometime during the California festival, in that haze of booze and hallucinogens that so many have tried to pass off as a genuine art form. The extent of Shinji's knowledge is that it had something to do with a tattoo artist and a bottle of whiskey.

When he emerged from the haze, Shinji was firm in the mindset that he wanted a piercing.

Lisa, Hiyori and Hacchi were all with him at the time; they were sharing an apartment (And God only knows how they were managing to pay the rent; Shinji can't for the life of him remember how they managed that).

Lisa's opinion was clear: she did _not_ think that this was a good idea, and emphasized her point by walking out of the apartment with a highly disgruntled air radiating about her. She did not come back, but that didn't worry any of the other Vizard overmuch—they often did things like this when a compatriot did something to upset him.

One opinion of opposition made Shinji stubborn about it.

Hacchi's opinion was equally clear. He politely but very firmly told Shinji that if whatever he wanted to pierce was to fall off, he was under no circumstances going to reattach it. He was usually, he was willing enough to admit, a bit of a pushover, but in this situation, Hacchi refused to become involved.

That made Shinji even more convinced he wanted a piercing.

Hiyori, in typical Hiyori fashion, could not be more blunt if she tried and she was blunt enough under normal circumstances. Shinji, she asserted, with a decidedly vicious expression on her little face, was not masculine enough to pull off a piercing without looking like a chick.

Shinji had only one thing to say to that:

_Okay, that tears it_.

He made an appointment with the proper people the very next day.

And when, the next time he saw Hiyori, Shinji went right up to her and stuck his tongue out as far as he could.

She only scoffed when she laid eyes on the metal stud glittering in the middle of his tongue.

"_That sure as hell is a weird place to get a piercing, Shinji. And you _still_ look like a chick!"_

Shinji decided to disregard her words.

He knows he looks good.


	215. Caught

**Title**: Caught**  
Characters**: Gin, Byakuya, Nanao**  
Summary**: "What do we do?" "Run."**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Friendship, Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers; _Cohesion_-verse**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: This can be considered connected to _Cohesion_, since I don't think Gin, Byakuya and Nanao had any significant interactions in the canon universe. Go read that, too, along with _Bucket List_ (The latter being an independent oneshot connected to _Cohesion_). As ever, requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 406**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Gin honestly doesn't know where he can find good help these days. Byakuya is as close to it as he's gotten so far, but the young Kuchiki is so… so… _reluctant_ (and that's putting it nicely) about their enterprises, enough that Gin isn't sure that it's worth dragging the older boy along as an accomplice.

He doesn't even feel like he can trust Byakuya to help him with the pranking without him bailing on him halfway through.

So this time, Gin has seen fit to have, ahem, _insurance_ to insure Byakuya's cooperation.

Namely, threats of revealing some past indiscretions of Byakuya's to the world at large if he doesn't help his sometime friend in this venture. So Byakuya is, as ever, a somewhat less than willing conspirator in this particular venture.

Particular venture being graffiti-ing the walls of the Eighth Division while no one's watching.

"You got the paint, Byakuya?"

"Yes." There's a noticeable sullen edge to the Kuchiki's voice, and Gin smirks to hear it; as much as he would have liked a willing accomplice, Byakuya is so ridiculously stuck up that, on some level, it's nice to know that he's suffering.

"Ichimaru…" _He says my name like it's an expletive or something_; oddly, the realization upsets Gin more than it should. "…you never told me exactly what it is we're supposed to be doing with this paint."

As though it isn't obvious.

They are sneaking through the Eighth Division grounds in the dead of night, so Gin has Byakuya crouch with him under a bush so he can explain the plan.

"Listen. We're going to—"

In that moment, the faces of both boys blanch in horror.

Because in that moment, a porch light very close to where they are flips on, and a figure slips out onto the porch.

She's staring straight at him.

"Ichimaru-san? Kuchiki-kun?" Gin and Byakuya both cringe when they recognize that voice. Nanao, standing in a loose-fitting yukata and looking very sleepy, stares curiously at them.

Then, she sees the bucket of paint, and the paintbrush.

With the sort of agonizing slowness that Gin likes to associate with a train wreck, Nanao lifts a hand to her face, and removes her glasses, a vein in her forehead twitching.

The effect is immediate.

"What are you two doing?"

"What do we do?" Byakuya whispers nervously to Gin, never taking his eyes off of the girl on the porch.

"Run… _Run…_"


	216. Imaginary Child

**Title**: Imaginary Child**  
Characters**: Lisa, Nanao**  
Summary**: She reaches out to take the book.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: Angst, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Timeline**: post-Turn Back the Pendulum arc, pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 181**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

She watches her, and starts to feel sharp feelings rise unbidden in her chest that she presses down immediately, all too used to restraining herself from feeling such things. In the life of a Shinigami, Lisa has learned well how to restrain herself from feeling things she shouldn't.

Still, it's hard not to watch the young girl who has skated into her life like a small mirage, or an unwelcome dream.

Nanao smiles politely up at her, just a slight hint of shyness in her deep blue-violet eyes—in awe of the lieutenant, as ever. The book she clutches in her hands is heavy and old, the leather bindings well-worn with much use.

The little girl is holding the book out to her.

Lisa hesitates, just a little bit, before she reaches out to take the book from her, so they can live out their nightly ritual of reading aloud.

Then, just as her hands would clamp around the tome, book and child both disappear, and Lisa remembers.

She is Vizard.

She is Exile.

And she will not see Nanao again.


	217. And Then The World Moved

**Title**: And Then the World Moved**  
Characters**: Shunsui, Nnoitra, Rangiku, Ryuuken, Shinji**  
Summary**: Five times they didn't realize how drunk they still were.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: Humor, with brief appearances by Romantic Angst**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: general spoilers**  
Timeline**: timeline skips around**  
Author's Note**: The segment with Ryuuken is pretty much a continuation of chapter 23. Also, just remember: Nothing is sacred. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 810**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

After well over fifteen hundred years of practice, Shunsui thinks he ought to be able to gauge just out of his mind he is the next morning after drinking himself nearly into a coma.

He _really_ ought to be able to tell when the next morning is going to be more awful than most of them.

But he still can't.

It's not going to be fun, this morning, though Shunsui doesn't know it when he crawls up off of the couch.

He ought to know he's out of his mind when he actually heads towards his desk to do the paperwork.

The letters on the paper are dancing.

And they're laughing at him.

Shunsui stares at them for a moment, uncomprehending, before groaning and heading back to the couch.

He needs to sleep for a few more hours.

.

Szayel does many things in Las Noches. But Nnoitra has only recently discovered that Las Noches' resident mad scientist, among many other things, brews sake. Very good sake, as it happens, and he doesn't keep as many locks on the cellar where he stores it as on the other alcoves and nooks and crannies of his laboratories.

So Nnoitra steals it.

A _lot_ of it.

And discovers that the strength of Szayel's sake is on par with paint remover.

Nnoitra has always enjoyed the taste of alcohol; he can only assume that it is a vestige of his life as a human man.

But when he gets into an argument with Neliel in the middle of the night in a deserted hallway that lasts fifteen minutes before Nnoitra remembers that he got rid of Neliel nearly six months ago, he decides that he's going to have to find another brewer to get his sake from.

.

Nnoitra isn't the only one who sees people dead or gone when he's drunk.

Rangiku smiles slightly at Gin, balancing precariously on the edge of her bed while he perches in the windowsill. She's nursing a bottle of plum wine, half-emptied down her throat, close to her chest.

They talk about simple things, inane things.

Promotions, demotions, who's gotten beat up in a fight and who hasn't.

Marriages and break-ups.

The weather.

Anything to avoid the truth.

Then, Gin disappears, and Rangiku's smile falters.

.

Some time around noon, skull still feeling like the marching band is having a vigorous go in his head, Ryuuken reaches for his glasses and wonders if he should start to behave as though he has a life again.

The source of his suffering is gone; Isshin has seen fit to go… somewhere, Ryuuken doesn't really care where. In fact, if Kurosaki Isshin never came back again he doesn't think he could be any happier.

_Damn Kurosaki and that swill he calls alcohol._

Ryuuken pulls himself off the couch and stands up…

…And promptly loses his balance and falls over on the coffee table.

For the first couple of moments, all Ryuuken can think is how glad he is Isshin isn't here to have seen that.

It's off, stumbling as he goes, to the bathroom for an aspirin (Ryuuken really doesn't care that evidently he still has enough alcohol in his system for him to have lost every bit of balance he possesses), and then back to the couch to try and go back to sleep. Life can wait.

Ryuuken tells himself the old stand-by once more.

_I am _never_ doing this again. _God only knows how many things he's said that to.

He's sticking to nicotine as his drug of choice from here on out.

.

Shinji loves his sake, but the things about sake nights is that there's always a morning after. He's not nearly as fond of the morning afters as he is of the night befores.

There is, however, one surefire cure to any hangover he finds himself afflicted with.

Get a bottle of sake, and get drunk again. Shinji actually manages to spend nearly a solid month in a state of drunkenness.

Much to Hiyori's amusement.

In fact, she joins him on occasion. Which Shinji soon figures out is not a good thing, by a long shot.

Hiyori can't hold her liquor. That's hardly surprising considering her small size, and there are only two avenues that Hiyori is capable of taking when she's drunk: she either starts throwing up like crazy and passes out soon afterwards, or she becomes even more of a raging bitch than she usually is.

God help Shinji when it's the latter.

Of course, whenever it is the latter, Shinji has a tried and true solution for that, too:

Get even more drunk.

The only problem is that he's going to stop soon. Lisa says that she refuses to pour him into a taxicab anymore if he's too drunk to form words.

Shinji decides that the Universe _really_ doesn't like him.


	218. Good Help is Hard to Find

**Title**: Good Help is Hard to Find**  
Characters**: Mayuri, Akon, Nemu**  
Summary**: Akon's not sure what to make of this.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Humor, General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: post-Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 446**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

This time, _this time_, everyone involved was sure that Kurotsuchi Mayuri had breathed his last. From the look of it, he had really kicked the bucket this time.

And no one was entirely sure how it had happened.

Mayuri was having two of his Shinigami—in this case Nemu and Akon—assist him in an experiment in his laboratory.

The question was simple: Mayuri was trying to obtain the correct formula for a nerve gas that would paralyze but not kill a Hollow opponent. Mayuri occasionally wanted a Hollow brought back for 'study' (through back doors, of course; Mayuri certainly didn't want certain authorities finding out about this and other projects of his), as a means to further research on more efficient ways to purify Hollows (Not that Mayuri really cared about that too much to start with). He'd be able to do this much more efficiently himself if he didn't have to exhaust his stash of back channels all the time; damn the Central Forty Six and their backward, narrow-minded take on things.

Well, Mayuri was in the process of taking a sample of the gas to give to a Shinigami to test on a Hollow the next time he was out on patrol—he'd sent Nemu out to fetch said Shinigami.

Then, the container shattered, and Mayuri accidentally breathed in some of the gas.

And promptly collapsed.

Akon blinked—_Well _that_ was anticlimactic_—down at him for a moment, once he got to the point where he could stand over his captain's fallen body. He hadn't been told what the gas was for or what it did to those unfortunate enough to breathe it in. Briefly, he wondered if he should call for help—after all, Mayuri _was _his captain and he wasn't exactly getting up and treating this as though it nothing.

Then, he shrugged off his lab coat and walked away to have a smoke outside.

Mayuri should have seen this coming; Akon had been asking for a pay raise for years.

Nemu was told that Mayuri was still working and did not with to be disturbed—Akon considered this to be the truth, after a fashion. Being a good, obedient girl, Nemu didn't venture back into the lab and sent the summoned Shinigami away.

Six hours later, Mayuri woke up.

If he hadn't known what had happened to him, Mayuri would have thought he had just had a nice, long nap. The effects of the gas weren't permanent, it seemed; he was going to have to work on that.

Mayuri looked around. It was night. It was dark. He was completely alone.

He sighed.

"Good help is impossible to find these days."


	219. Shut Questions

**Title**: Shut Questions**  
Characters**: Kuukaku**  
Summary**: It's the itching that woke her up.**  
Pairings**: past Kaien x Miyako**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Family, Angst**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Soul Society arc**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: I've never done anything with Kuukaku before, so I hope she seems in-character to all of you; feedback on that would be appreciated. Requests are open.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **Nicky Eira**.**  
Word Count**: 343**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Kuukaku is often in the position to find herself wondering about things, and now is no exception. The phantom itch in the hole in space where her arm used to be has reared its ugly head once more, and when she raises the hand still there to rub at flesh, it meets only air; this is what has driven her to wakefulness.

It must be past midnight now; Kuukaku feels like she's been lying awake for hours. Not that this is at all unusual for her; she doesn't bother hiding the shadows beneath her eyes that emerge with the morning sun and no one ever asks after them.

Ganju doesn't understand; Ganju's too young to remember. But Kuukaku's not. One of these days, she supposes moodily, trying to shift on the tatami mat to find a comfortable position, she's going to have to tell him that his brother was a Shinigami.

That, Kuukaku muses with a wry smirk on her face, will be quite the revelation for her brother.

But her mind doesn't wander to the thought of Ganju's face fixed with shock tonight.

Her mind wanders to blood, and lives cast away down a drain, never to be heard from again.

Miyako was a sweet girl. A little docile and a little too quiet for Kuukaku's liking, but a sweet girl and a sweet sister-in-law. A good, strong woman.

Did she want to die?

Kaien was a wonderful older brother. He didn't think it was beneath his dignity to play with his younger siblings in the trees and amongst the crowded streets even after reaching adulthood and donning the black shihakusho of the Shinigami. He was an honorable man, somewhat brash, at times short-sighted and ridiculously impulsive, and above everything else he was Kuukaku's older brother.

Did he want to die?

Does _anyone ever_ want to die?

Kuukaku's not sure of that, any more than she's sure of why the void that's the absence of her arm still aches or itches in the deep night watches.

Those questions are denied to her.


	220. Assigning Names

**Title**: Assigning Names**  
Characters**: Rukia**  
Summary**: She decides she likes this name.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: I've addressed this briefly in _Candle in the Wind_. If you all want to go read that (but I suggest you read _Candle in the Wind_'s predecessor _Revelations of Hunger_ first) I would greatly appreciated. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **Nicky Eira**.**  
Word Count**: 305**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

In Rukongai, there are many children with no sense of self, no identity to their souls. They have been on their own for as long and longer than they can remember, and they don't know their names—they have no name. These children are on their own; no names, no families, no prospects.

Among these packs of wild-eyed, slight, fey children, there is a tiny girl more fey than most who lives alone in Inuzuri, shifting in the shadows to keep herself safe.

The couple who fed her and kept her safe are gone now; death isn't quite yet the sort of concept that she can readily think of or define. They kept her in their shack with them, feeding her meager bits of rice and stew. They gave her a birthday and told her how old she was, leaving her with more than what most children in Rukongai can ever claim to have. She knows that she's three, and that she was born in the wintertime.

But they did not give her a name.

She was always referred to as "child" or "shoujo-chan". Never a real name; she doesn't know why that is. It's odd, that they cared for her but never named her.

She is nameless, a blank slate, just like so many other small children, and she is alone.

But she dreams.

A little castaway dreams, and in the depth of those dreams sees the fuzzy outline of a woman's face. This woman has dark hair that shines and dark, gentle eyes that glimmer. She holds her in her arms, sings to her, shushes her, and calls her something, crooning softly.

Rukia. She calls her Rukia.

The little girl without a name decides she likes this one, never thinking about the possible significance of her dream.

She'll be Rukia from now on.


	221. The Amazing Aspiring Lunatic

**Title**: The Amazing Aspiring Lunatic**  
Characters**: Renji, Ikkaku, Rukia**  
Summary**: It was a dare. That's his story and he's sticking to it.**  
Pairings**: slight RenjiRuki**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Humor, Friendship, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: pre-manga; Renji's still with the Eleventh**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 401**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

The first thing Renji is aware of when he opens his eyes is the hairless and the very black eyebrows that are both arched as they look in his direction.

To his right Ikkaku smirks cattily, and Renji vows to kill him later. He'll be damned if Ikkaku's status of Third Seat stops him.

To his left Rukia looks caught between worry and exasperation, and when Renji sees her face he finds _himself_ caught between the impulse to smile foolishly and groan at the same time. Oh, _God, _it's never good when she looks at him like that.

"So…" It's Rukia who speaks first, looking at him like he's an idiot—and she probably _does_ think he's an idiot, right about now. "…Renji… What exactly was it that possessed you to pick a fight with the Third, Fourth _and_ Fifth Seats of the Twelfth Division?" Her eyebrow has now disappeared into her hair. "I'm very interested in knowing."

"Yeah…" Ikkaku's trying not to laugh, only half-succeeding, and Renji shoots a sour glare in his direction; _This is your fault, you bastard_. "I wanna know too, Renji. Why _did_ you do that?"

At this moment, Renji would like to put up. Renji would like to assert that this was not his idea. In fact, Renji would like to scream to the heavens that Ikkaku dared him to do this if only so Rukia wouldn't think of him as an idiot anymore.

Unfortunately, he can't do any of that, being under oath not to admit—ever—that Ikkaku dared him to take on the Third, Fourth and Fifth Seats of the Twelfth Division. So it's time for the old stand-by: the thin disguise of an obviously improvised excuse.

Renji cringes, racking his brain for material. "They umm… They insulted my tattoos?" he supplies weakly.

Ikkaku noticeably rolls his eyes and Rukia splutters, eyes burning. "Well of all the…" With an exasperated snarl she hops to her feet, throwing her hands in the air as she leaves.

"Rukia…" Renji can't even bring himself to be desperate; he's secretly relieved to not be made a fool of anymore "…wait…"

A slam of the door answers him.

Ikkaku laughs. "'They insulted my tattoos?' What, you didn't have a decent lie on hand?"

"Go to Hell." Renji rolls over, wincing at the soreness in his ribs. Ikkaku doesn't deserve a decent answer. It's all his fault, anyway.


	222. To Explain Things

**Title**: To Explain Things**  
Characters**: Ishida, Ichigo**  
Summary**: Passing notes in class.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: no timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 480**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Ichigo raises an eyebrow when he hears Ishida coughing a few desks down from him. It's not so much that he's coughing that gets his attention as the fact that he doesn't _stop_ coughing. The teacher herself doesn't seem to notice; she's so used to hearing her students coughing that it just doesn't faze her anymore.

Grabbing a bit of paper out of his folder, Ichigo puts pen to paper and scribbles down a quick note.

.

Ishida merely closes one eye in irritation when he feels a balled-up wad of paper hit him in the side of the head. Feeling like his forehead and chest cavity are both full of sand isn't exactly conducive to an even temper, but he's far too tired to work up the anger necessary to get truly in a hot-tempered state.

Then, he sees Ichigo gesticulating furiously with one hand—or as furiously as he can manage without the teacher noticing. Ishida sighs, and reaches down to the floor for the ball of paper, smoothing out the creases.

_Are you sick_?

Ichigo hasn't bothered to sign it; a grievous oversight, in Ishida's opinion.

His reply is, as typical of him, brief:

_Yes._

Ishida remembers to sign his name; unlike Kurosaki, he _will_ remember to do these things.

_Ishida_

.

This time, the paper hits his desk instead of his head; either Ichigo's aim has sharpened or dulled (Ishida can't tell which).

When the teacher comes to a lull in writing down notes, Ishida smoothes out the paper again and reads, beneath the last two entries,

_Why are you here then?_

Ishida rolls his eyes.

_What's it to you?_

_Ishida_

.

Ishida can see Ichigo's shoulders tense in irritation when he reads the note and smirks, satisfied.

The note he receives barely a minute later reflects Ichigo's irritation.

_It's customary, when somebody's sick, to stay home from school._

The sarcasm couldn't be put across more clearly if Ichigo had said it aloud.

Another rack of coughing hits him—and knowing _exactly _who he sounds like at this moment Ishida feels a wave of abhorrence sweep over him—and then Ishida picks up his pen to compose another reply.

_Oh, do I detect a note of concern?_

He would have signed it and sent it straight off from there, but Ishida frowns. He's really not in the mood or the state of health considered optimal for getting into an argument with Kurosaki. The paper's not big enough to sustain that sort of argument. He adds another paragraph.

_After having left_—Ishida hesitates before writing some more—_his house, it seems indecent to go back for a note excusing me from school._

_Ishida_

.

Though it wasn't his intended effect, Ishida can't deny that he's satisfied when Ichigo doesn't write back again.

Now he's only got one thing to worry about while trying not to pass out.


	223. Extinguishing Dreams

**Title**: Extinguishing Dreams**  
Characters**: Aizen, Hinamori**  
Summary**: He can't explain why he still dreams of her.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Soul Society arc**  
Timeline**: post-Soul Society arc; pre-Arrancar arc**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 241**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Facing those eyes in the dark, Aizen muses that it almost certainly means something that here, in the depths of sandy Hueco Mundo when all things irrelevant ought to be banished from his mind, he starts to have dreams of his old lieutenant, flitting through his head in the artificial night shadows.

Hinamori Momo has a smile frozen on her face, before it starts to drip blood and she explodes into dying stars, shimmering dully, and fades out, dissolving back into darkness.

Aizen can not be sure of what it means. Of course, there's a chance that it doesn't mean anything at all and he just dreams of Hinamori because his mind has nowhere else to go in dreaming. Aizen tells himself that that is all; after all, there is no reason to be dreaming of one who is utterly insignificant.

Hinamori is an insect. He has no reason to be dreaming of her.

But Aizen still does dream of Hinamori Momo, and he can not explain it, not even if he wanted to.

Eventually, it starts to disturb him. Something without an explanation has always disturbed Aizen; it does not do to have things in his life that he can not give explanation to. Something without explanation could be a chink in the armor guarding his plans for all existence.

Aizen knows of ways to extinguish dreams.

So he downs the medicine, and he does not dream of Hinamori anymore.


	224. Same Split Grin

**Title**: Same Split Grin**  
Characters**: Aizen, Nnoitra, Shinji**  
Summary**: He knows Gin has noticed this too.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 209**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Aizen restrains the urge to raise an eyebrow when he first sees the grin Nnoitra Jiruga chooses to plaster across his face. Aizen has always believed, unlike many of his "comrades" that coincidences really do happen and sometimes things don't always happen for a reason, but really, this is stretching the bounds of credulity a bit far…

Aizen takes a moment to wonder if the Arrancar named Nnoitra has ever had the pleasure of swallowing a Vizard known as Hirako Shinji. It would certainly explain a lot if he has.

Under the present circumstances, Aizen decides that it's inappropriate to be disturbed. Under any circumstances, he would steadfastly refuse to be disturbed—there are no such things as ghosts, not really, not in a world filled with ghosts already.

But he does, of course, notice it.

And he can't bring himself to trust this new Arrancar.

Because Aizen sees his old captain in Nnoitra's split grin, and he feels that if he ever turns his back in him he will be met with a knife out of the dark. Vengeance for an experiment done, so many decades past.

He wonders if Gin's noticed. He must have some interesting things to say about it.

_I think I'll go ask him_.


	225. A Stranger's Death, Or Her Own

**Title**: A Stranger's Death, Or Her Own**  
Characters**: Hinamori, Hitsugaya**  
Summary**: She doesn't recognize him.**  
Pairings**: onesided HitsuHina**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: General, Drama, Angst**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Fake Karakura Town arc**  
Timeline**: post-Deicide arc**  
Author's Note**: I wonder if enough drugs in your system really can make you forget everyone you know. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 386**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

She's ready to spill and fan out across the floor when he comes, so tired and defeated that the act of straightening her back in bed is too much and she just lies there, propped up in bed by a number of pillows.

The flow of antibiotics and sedatives through Hinamori's veins still exerts a strong enough influence over her, its tide still strong enough that all the world seems to be in a dream-like state as Hitsugaya slips into the hospital room, diligently careful not to slam the door as he shuts it behind him.

"Hinamori?" Hitsugaya's voice is hushed and full of tremulous half-thoughts he's not willing to put a voice to. "Are you awake?"

In her half-asleep state, Hinamori stares through the haze at this newcomer in fascination. The drugs tell her pernicious lies, and she believes them. She's never seen any of these people who mill through her room. It does not matter whether they've visited her one time or a thousand; their faces are unfamiliar to her and she has to improvise on every conversation she has.

Hinamori says nothing to this latest visitor from beyond the mist, whose face is as a mask to her. She will say nothing to him, though she does not know why.

Hitsugaya sees her open, slightly glazed eyes, and takes that to mean that she is conscious, not seeing the lack of recognition in brown depths. He sits down on the bed. "Listen, Hinamori…" he ducks his head to hide shame and fear and grief and pain and everything else "…I'm so… I'm so sorry about hurting you. If you hear me… I mean… If you hear me," he finally manages, "will you please just say something? Anything?"

This young man speaks in a language Hinamori can't understand. She watches the progress of his mouth, confused, and can not match the movements of his lips to any words she knows.

She doesn't know him, anyway.

Hinamori is tired, and the haze of drugs robs Hinamori of any sense of propriety. She lets her head fall on her pillow, her eyes close, and she doesn't see the look, the utter death of hope, that steals over Hitsugaya's face as she drops off into slumber.

It's not like she knows him well enough to care, anyway.


	226. The Look

**Title**: The Look**  
Characters**: Ikkaku, Nemu**  
Summary**: What Nemu wants, Nemu gets.**  
Pairings**: Ikkaku x Nemu**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Humor, Friendship, Romance**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: pre-manga; one week post-the events of earlier chapter _The Amazing Aspiring Lunatic_, and just before earlier chapter _Track Marks_**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 314**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

_You looked at me with those green eyes, and that's when I knew it was all over. Say goodbye to my masculinity, and all of my dignity._

Ikkaku knows this is a bad idea from the start (_This must have been the feeling Renji got just last week when he convinced him to attack Shinigami from the Twelfth Division_), but somehow, he can't get out of it, and somehow he's been thoroughly drawn into the conspiracy before he truly knows what's going on.

What Kurotsuchi Nemu wants, Kurotsuchi Nemu gets, one way or another, as Madarame Ikkaku is discovering now.

So she wants him to do something insane and possibly life-threatening. So what; Ikkaku does _that_ every day. He's an Eleventh Division Shinigami; death-defying stunts go with the territory. That Nemu wants him to be have according to his nature does not disturb him.

However, even Ikkaku has to take exception to the prospect of allowing Nemu to stick a needle in him to see how an experimental drug works. He has his limits.

Then, Nemu looks at him.

And Ikkaku bites back a groan.

He's seen that look on her face before. It's the "I want something out of you and you're going to give it to me" look. For someone renowned to be a blank slate and completely unpracticed in the art of human interaction, Nemu can be remarkably manipulative when aspiring towards getting something she wants.

She almost looks _hurt._

But Ikkaku knows better.

Even knowing that, he still ends up agreeing. _Great; she's turning me into a wuss._

Because as much as the knowledge annoys and even infuriates him, Ikkaku has no defense against _that_ look. He doesn't know anyone that does, though they're usually defenseless to _that_ look being distributed by someone other than Nemu.

Now why won't Nemu just go and find someone _else_ to use it on?


	227. Not Again

**Title**: Not Again  
**Characters**: Shunsui, Nanao  
**Summary**: "Are you doing this on purpose?"  
**Pairings**: Shunsui x Nanao  
**Rating**: K+  
**Genres**: General, Humor, Romance  
**Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers; AU, AR  
**Timeline**: No timeline needed  
**Author's Note**: I thought up this idea last night, while my dad was getting a virus off of my computer. And _yes_, it's been less than a week since the last time. And _**yes**_, I needed it to finish up with my research paper. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.  
**Word Count**: 396  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Shunsui stares, dumbstruck, at the flashing, squealing laptop screen before him and restrains the exceptionally powerful urge to scream and fling his laptop out his apartment window. The only thing that stops him is that his apartment is four storeys up from the street below, his laptop wouldn't survive the trip and he isn't willing to spend the money necessary to replace it.

_I just had to deal with a damn virus last week_, Shunsui growls internally; the time for patience is long over. _Don't tell me I gotta deal with another one. Not now_. He needs his computer desperately; there's an important report due in at work.

There's only one bright spot to this whole situation, and at Shunsui's frantic call she is about to come in through the door.

A sharp knock sends grateful choruses of _'Thank God!'_ singing in Shunsui's mind as he hops up from the couch and practically runs to his front door. _Right on time as always_.

"Okay, Kyouraku-san." Nanao looks up at him immediately, arms folded firmly across her chest. "I got your call." Eyes shielded behind spectacles glint coolly. "What's so important that you had to drag me out of bed at this hour?" Shunsui recalls Nanao to be half-nocturnal.

Ise Nanao is a young computer technician who specializes in the expulsion of computer viruses, and in the last year she has been called to Kyouraku Shunsui's apartment no less than seventeen times.

Shunsui gestures frantically to his laptop, praying Nanao will understand.

"What, again?" She sounds positively scandalized. "You just called me over because of a virus last week!" Taking charge of the situation, Nanao strides over to the couch and sits down, sighing as she pulls the infected laptop onto her lap.

"Listen, you gotta help me Nanao-chan. I _need_ hat computer in working order as soon as possible."

"I told you not to call me Nanao-chan," Nanao mutters in absent irritation, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose as she works. She's too absorbed to be properly angry.

Fifteen minutes later, Nanao has an announcement to make, though it's not quite the one Shunsui expects. "Kyouraku-san, do you get your computer infected with viruses for the express purpose of bringing me over here? If so, I'm not impressed."

"No!"

Truth be told, Shunsui only says no because he hadn't thought of that before.


	228. Entirely Too Easy

**Title**: Entirely Too Easy**  
Characters**: Soi Fong, Gin**  
Summary**: In which Gin stirs up trouble and Soi Fong overreacts.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Drama, Humor, Friendship**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: pre-Soul Society arc**  
Author's Note**: This seemed like the right thing to do. And to **bookwormtiff**, if you'll read in the **Warnings/Spoilers** section of the description for chapter 227, you'll see AU (Alternate Universe) and AR (Alternate Reality) there. Personally, I'm not sure if Shinigami have computers (Might be an idea). Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 321**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

For the most part, Ichimaru Gin and Soi Fong are not at all prone to seeking out each other's company. Especially not at a bar. _Especially_ not over drinks. However, desperate times call for desperate measures, and the dry run of both is officially over as of tonight.

"I'm sure you've noticed it."

"Trust me, Ichimaru, I have."

"A bloody _curfew_; what's that supposed to solve?"

"The soutaicho thinks it'll cut down on crime and drunkenness and the like."

"Well he'd be wrong."

Soi Fong downs her sake; Gin's already called for another on his part. This news is frankly devastating to them both.

Soi Fong is, without a doubt, a creature of the night. All those who know her agree. She does her best work at night, after all the lights have gone out. She hisses at sunlight; it's a little disturbing to watch.

Gin is also a creature of the night. He has things to do—plotting, conniving, scheming to take over the world; normal stuff—that can't be accomplished without a cloak of darkness over him. That and the fact that he sunburns way too easily (albinism isn't all it's cracked up to be), so doing all of this out in the sun isn't viable for him. He _needs _the night hours; it's as simple as that.

And as Soi Fong broods, Gin gets an idea. He looks at Soi Fong's dour, morose face, and restrains the urge to grin from ear to ear—never a good sign.

"Soi Fong-san, maybe we can do something about this? A petition, maybe, or something?" Gin lets his voice trail off suggestively. _Or something,_ he thinks with the strong urge to grin coming on him again.

It's from that moment that she's hooked, and putty in Gin's hands.

_Manipulation is so ridiculously _easy_._

Soul Society is about to get a whole lot _louder_, if Gin has anything to say about it.


	229. Answers Would Be Nice

**Title**: Answers Would Be Nice**  
Characters**: Gin, Rangiku**  
Summary**: Rangiku doesn't like being stonewalled.**  
Pairings**: GinRan**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Friendship, Romance**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 223**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Hold still, I'm almost done."

"Are you sure? Are you sure you don't want to keep on poking me and rubbing whatever that is in the wound?"

"Wound? Gin, it's a scratch. The only reason I got out the disinfectant was because it looked deep and because you _never_ remember to do this yourself."

"…Oh."

Rangiku finally takes her hand away and Gin blinks, venturing a hand towards the cut on his forehead before Rangiku slaps his hand away. "_Don't_ touch it."

"Okay." It's so much easier not to argue with her in such situations as this.

Sitting beside him on the edge of the bed, still nursing a bottle of disinfectant in long, slim hands, Rangiku tilts her head at Gin and smiles slightly. "You never did tell me how you ended up with that cut, you know. It doesn't look like the sort of thing you'd just pick up in a swordfight."

Gin shrugs. "Just a scratch, Rangiku. It's not important." He prays Rangiku doesn't notice the way his back has tensed at the inquiry.

Her face sours slightly. "I'd still like to know how you got it."

"Well how do you intent on doing that if I don't tell you?"

The smile that grows on Rangiku's face makes Gin sorry he asked. Or maybe his isn't. "I have my ways."


	230. Mysterious Photograph

**Title**: Mysterious Photograph**  
Characters**: Rukia, Hisana (mentioned), Byakuya (mentioned)**  
Summary**: Rukia finds a picture.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Soul Society arc**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 293**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

It's only by sheer accident on Rukia's part and a moment of carelessness on Byakuya's part that she finds it, one empty summer's day when all the servants have retreated inside and Byakuya is off somewhere in the estate far from his bedchamber.

Rukia pushes open the door tentatively, looking for Byakuya so she can ask him something (She hasn't seen him and he's just as likely to be here as anywhere else). The bedchamber is empty, and Rukia turns around, starting to leave.

That's when she sees the panel of wood left slightly ajar, and a faint gleam of glass from inside.

Propriety tells her that she should ignore this and leave, that she doesn't want to be there when Byakuya gets back; likely he would be angry with her for violating his privacy.

Then again, in Rukia curiosity has almost always outweighed propriety, and now is no exception.

Again, she tiptoes into the bedchamber, casting her eyes about warily, almost expecting something to jump out from the slight shadows gathering where the walls meet the floor.

She comes to the wood panel, and pushes it open.

And feels her face pale in shock.

It's her own eyes staring back at her.

Rukia sees a picture behind the wood panel, a picture that looks very much as though it is of her. There's only one problem with that though. _I don't recall ever posing for this picture. And I don't smile like that_.

Rukia feels her blood go cold as she realizes that this picture isn't of her after all, realizes just who this picture _is_ of. Suddenly, all the air feels very still and suffocating.

She leaves quietly, but quickly as though something has risen from the shadows and chased her.


	231. Sanity Has Advantages

**Title**: Sanity Has Advantages**  
Characters**: Yumichika, Ikkaku, Kenpachi, Yachiru**  
Summary**: Yumichika has suddenly become aware that he's the only sane one left.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: no timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Eleventh Division love is the best. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 368**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Yumichika sighs. Other people would kick up a fuss at the sight he's confronted with. Other people would have a fit, or start shouting, or just lay down and scream and cry in frustration. Yumichika, however, is not 'other people', and he has far too much dignity and has seen this sort of thing far too many times to have any of those reactions.

He does, however, reflect that he is almost certainly the only sane man left in the Eleventh Division.

Yeah… This definitely proves it.

_I thought we all agreed that we_ weren't_ going to let Kusajishi-fukutaicho get into the liquor cabinet_. That clause seems to have been disregarded.

Yumichika's captain, Third Seat and lieutenant are all sprawled on various bits of furniture in the captain's office, drunk out of their minds; Yachiru herself has, predictably for her small size, passed out, her head lolling off the edge of the couch.

Ikkaku's trying to get Kenpachi involved in a philosophical discussion concerning the nature of the Universe. Kenpachi's got his sword out and is eyeing Ikkaku speculatively. If Ikkaku were sober enough to notice the gleam in his captain's eye, he'd probably be making some excuse about having to beat up a few delinquents about now.

And Yumichika just watches from the doorway, and does absolutely nothing to let himself be noticed by his comrades. He knows better.

If he sticks around, there will probably be a very good show in the making pretty soon. One with plenty of blood and violence. And screaming. There's always the screaming.

But Yumichika knows that if he sticks around to watch, the fighting will spill over into the hall eventually and he'll likely be caught up in the battle as well. Yumichika knows that if both his opponents were sober he'd be alright, but he doesn't want to face Ikkaku _and _Kenpachi when they're both drunk. That would be a disaster.

So Yumichika sneaks off to go find Shuuhei and Kira.

Being the only one with any common sense among the upper echelons of the Eleventh isn't easy.

But sanity has its advantages, and not ending up in a full-body cast every other week is definitely one of them.


	232. Inexplicably Crabby

**Title**: Inexplicably Crabby**  
Characters**: Nanao, Soi Fong, Yachiru (mentioned), Yoruichi (mentioned)**  
Summary**: She's crabbier than usual.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 417**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"I hope you're ready to wrap this up."

"I'm almost done; if you'll just wait a little longer, Soi Fong-san." Really, Nanao doesn't quite know what's so epic about doing a quick repair to her waraji on the cobblestone street that necessitates use of the phrase "wrap this up".

While poring over her torn waraji, Nanao can hear Soi Fong tapping her foot against the cobblestone. "Will you hurry up, Ise?" Her voice thrums with thwarted frustration—not entirely directed at her, Nanao realizes with a jolt. "You ought to get shoes like mine if you want reliability. They don't fall apart nearly as often as waraji."

"I'll consider it," Nanao answers vaguely to appease her.

Eventually, Nanao goes over her work, decides that the waraji will probably last until she gets home, and if it doesn't she'll just pull off waraji, tabi and go barefoot, and springs up. "Alright, I'm ready."

"Well it's about time."

They start on again in silence, the yellow sun sinking behind them and Nanao occasionally shooting apprehensive glances at the older woman. Soi Fong's always a bit on the surly side—even at her best she's curt to the point of rudeness—but today Soi Fong's dour mien is joined by a tension in her bones, as though they're ready to spring into battle.

After a few minutes of internal debate, Nanao decides to brave the waters.

"So, Soi Fong-san… You were… quiet at the meeting today." The meeting of the Women's Association had met earlier that afternoon.

Soi Fong shrugs, not looking at Nanao. "I didn't have much to say."

No, she never has much to say; Soi Fong is nearly as eerily mute as Nemu during those meetings. Truth be told, it's Nanao who does most of the talking during the sessions, trying desperately to curb Yachiru's utterly ruinous impulses. The rest just sit back and watch the fireworks as the president and vice-president bicker.

"Ah," Nanao replies, as though this answers everything (it doesn't), and starts to wrack her brain.

What could put Soi Fong out of sorts like this? There are several things that annoy her (indeed, it's easier to list the things that _don't_ annoy Soi Fong), but none of them are enough to put her in this state.

Then, the answer occurs to Nanao suddenly, and she winces, resolving not to say a word to Soi Fong for the rest of the walk home.

It's the anniversary of the night Yoruichi disappeared.

_That_ explains everything.


	233. Forever Needs to Hurry

**Title**: Forever Needs to Hurry**  
Characters**: Aizen, Gin**  
Summary**: What's with the company in this place?**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: General, Supernatural**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Deicide arc**  
Timeline**: post-Deicide arc**  
Author's Note**: This thought was glorious. Still seems that way, too. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 601**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Funny how people only start listening to you after you're dead, isn't it?"

From his cell (Aizen can't tell if this is a proper cell or if he's just been sealed somewhere and been deluded into thinking that he occupies a prison cell; the latter explanation would certainly explain the company), Aizen raises an eyebrow at the grinning form striped by the bars and half-lost to the shadows; it's always dark here, with only the harsh fluorescent light above his head for illumination. "Or not at all, in your case?"

"Nah. There is someone who only listened to me after I was dead, and that's the reason you sit there now, in your little cell."

Aizen simply closes his eyes and wonders just how thorough death has to be before he isn't haunted by the demented figment of his former lieutenant. "Thank you for that assessment, Gin. However, why so triumphant?" Aizen smiles that mild smile that has been known to put the fear of God in whole legions but was never able to intimidate Gin, not even when he was a silver-haired little boy. "I won't be here forever."

Gin flashes his trademark wide, catty grin right back at Aizen. "You may as well be."

That wasn't the answer Aizen expected, though truth be told there's always been a bit of a disparity between what Aizen expects out of Gin and what Gin actually does and says.

Taking Aizen's silence as an invitation, Gin shakes his head and a small sound suspiciously similar to a laugh escapes Gin's lips. "There are other ways to kill apart from the Big Bird," he remarks mockingly. "Nobody lives as long as you've been sentenced to carry out. You'll die in here, and when that happens, your soul will be reborn—if you don't get dragged to Hell, that is. After that, poof; you're erased, and it's as though you never were at all."

Aizen can smirk at that, Aizen who knows more of the inner workings of reincarnation than anyone else living. There are ways of preserving a personality after the soul's rebirth, ways Aizen knows of. For now, he says nothing; Aizen has learned the folly of being open with Gin. "What cell can hold me?"

"What cell _can't_, now that Kyouka Suigetsu's abandoned you? I tell you, Aizen-taicho, you'd have done better to have kept faith with her. She made a better ally to you than the Hougyoku."

"I'll keep that in mind."

All is silent for a moment. Aizen goes back to the _fascinating_ occupation of watching paint peel and Gin seems content to shut up. Then… "I'm surprised you haven't asked why I'm here."

Lying on his back on his thin cot, Aizen doesn't deign to look at the apparition just beyond the bars. "Does it matter?"

Gin's answer… _disquiets_ Aizen, to be honest.

"Yeah, actually, it does. See, Aizen-taicho, I figured you might get a bit _lonely_ down here, being stuck to serve what basically amounts to the rest of eternity in an itty bitty little cell." Gin's grin is absolutely predatory. "Especially considering that part of the cell's ability is to prolong your life as long as possible, so that you won't live to see the end of your sentence, but you'll live far longer than anyone has a right to."

This gets Aizen's attention.

"So I decided I'd keep you company." He pauses. "Forever."

Aizen can't help but gape.

"Don't expect to be getting a whole lot of sleep for the next ten thousand years or so."

Aizen decides that Forever needs to hurry up. Fast.


	234. Returning the Spray Paint

**Title**: Returning the Spray Paint  
**Characters**: Kiyone, Ikkaku  
**Summary**: Naturally, she didn't expect that. How anticlimactic.  
**Pairings**: None  
**Rating**: K+  
**Genres**: General, Humor  
**Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers  
**Timeline**: no timeline  
**Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.  
**Word Count**: 229  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

He shouts "Wait a minute!" and she can't help but cringe, thinking that it's all over now and she's going to end up a greasy red stain on the cobblestone.

Kiyone just has no luck.

And this was such a stupid prank to start with. If Kiyone had had just a little more common sense, she supposes she would have_ ignored_ Yachiru and Soi Fong when they came up with this. Spray-painting the Eleventh Division grounds, really?

_I must have been out of my mind when I agreed to do this._

Now, the Third Seat's coming up on her, and oh, Kiyone knows she's going to be dead soon, likely in highly unpleasant fashion. _Oh, goodbye cruel world. Hello even crueler world that waits for me._

But then, all Ikkaku does is hold out the bottle of spray paint and tell her, "You dropped this," before walking off as though this is routine.

_Wait… I'm not dead? Well… This is… anticlimactic._ Kiyone almost feels insulted. She worked herself up for the process of being dead, and to be let down like this…

Anyway, Kiyone tilts her head and frowns at the can of bright pink spray paint now returned to her possession.

Either the Shinigami at the Eleventh Division really are as stupid as everybody says they are, or Ikkaku has more appreciation for a prank than she thought.


	235. Sake Sick

**Title**: Sake Sick**  
Characters**: Ikkaku, Yachiru**  
Summary**: Yachiru wants some love and recognition. Ikkaku doesn't understand why _he_ has to be the one to love and recognize her.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: no timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 302**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

There is a time and a place for Kusajishi Yachiru in Ikkaku's lifestyle, he's more than willing to admit that. There are times when he's, if not happy then at least content to humor her and pay attention to her. She's a whiny little brat, but she can be decent company under the right circumstances.

However, today is neither the time _nor_ the place for Kusajishi Yachiru in Madarame Ikkaku's lifestyle, and frankly, Ikkaku can't think of _anyone_ who would make decent company right now.

Let alone a loud, obnoxious little runt like her.

"C'mon Baldy, play with me!" Yachiru importunes him pleadingly, sitting on the edge of Ikkaku's bed and staring at him with her lower lip stuck out.

That doesn't work on Ikkaku even on good days (he's immune to The Pout), and today he just puts his pillow over his head and groans in pain. "Go away, you little pest," he groans, wincing even at the sunlight that filters through his pillow. "I'm not playing with you today."

"Pleasssssseeee?"

"No!"

"Why not?"

Ikkaku groans again; he's never been big on restraint. "I'm sick," he mutters as way of explanation. It's the truth—to a point.

"Sake-sick?"

_Damn… That kid's more perceptive than I thought…_

Well, if Yachiru has realized that Ikkaku is so hung-over that he's ready to just roll over and die, he may as well use this to his advantage. He takes the pillow from his face. "Yeah, sake-sick. I'm really, _really_ sake-sick. So leave me alone so I can get better."

Ikkaku knows he hasn't done this right when Yachiru's little face lights up. "I know! I'll go get some medicine so you can get better!" She springs off the bed and goes running out into the hall. "I'll be right back!"

Ikkaku groans once more.


	236. Some Monsters are Real

**Title**: Some Monsters are Real**  
Characters**: Referenced**  
Summary**: Not all monsters live beneath beds or in closets.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Supernatural, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Given what I write about, you can probably guess the characters I'm referring to here. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 167**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Some children go on about monsters underneath the bed. They imagine claws and hands reaching out from underneath, and are afraid to venture from their bed until morning comes.

Some children imagine monsters in the closet. They lock the door to that small room and they occasionally poke their heads out from under the bed sheets, casting fearful eyes if the door is to creak open despite the locks.

Sometimes, the monsters children see and fear are real. Sometimes, they don't have to imagine anything.

Sometimes, the eldritch creatures that flit through the dreams of children can reach forth into reality and terrorize them there.

When this occurs, their parents are stuck doing one of two things.

They ignore their children, and leave them to fend for themselves despite their terror.

Or they can suck up their pride and their coldness and do what they can to console their terrified child, begrudging them every inch of space and warmth as they do so.

Sometimes, they do both.


	237. Simple Answer

**Title**: Simple Answer**  
Characters**: Nanao**  
Summary**: She can't understand how she didn't see it before.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: no timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: It's funny how seemingly smart people can ignore the most basic of solutions because they're looking for something more elaborate. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 124**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Nanao has recently discovered a solution to all her difficulties, or at least most of them; it's still ridiculous trying to control Shunsui and she can't get rid of the alcohol hidden in the Division grounds no matter how hard she tries.

Not all things can be solved by the answer's she found.

But for right now, Nanao can get her peace and quiet and her paperwork done.

She doesn't have to worry about Shunsui barging in on her or any of her subordinates coming to her with any of their ridiculous problems and petty concerns.

It's so simple; she doesn't understand how she didn't see it before.

Nanao can have her alone time, and all she has to do is lock the door.


	238. Rice Cake

**Title**: Rice Cake**  
Characters**: Soi Fong, Omaeda**  
Summary**: Nothing can stand in the way of the man and his rice cakes.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Soi Fong can be so awful. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 414**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Soi Fong personally despised the young man she'd been saddled with as a lieutenant; not that this was anything unusual—Soi Fong, it was well-known, despised the majority of Soul Society, often because they were either too loud for her liking or they didn't get out of her way fast enough. Sometimes both.

Yes, Soi Fong hated everything, even when she didn't. For Omaeda, she reserved a slightly higher concentration of hatred than she did for the rest of the general population.

But she was stuck with him. The roly-poly fool had a rich family, one whose financial and political backing Soi Fong desperately needed in order to retain her position; Omaeda was part of the deal, and she couldn't get rid of him.

That Soi Fong had to keep her lieutenant where he was didn't mean she had to treat him with respect though. If Omaeda had to be under the same administrative roof as Soi Fong, she was going to make good and sure that she could at least get _some_ enjoyment out of the suffering Omaeda would be subjected to at the hands of his diminutive captain.

Namely, Omaeda wasn't allowed to have rice cakes anymore. _The horror_, Soi Fong thought in reaction to his expression when she first informed him of such. They weren't good for him, and Soi Fong couldn't stand the fact that Omaeda couldn't, for all of his aristocratic upbringing, chew with his mouth closed. It was truly disgusting, and Soi Fong's sensibilities only tolerated so much.

So no more rice cakes for the new guy.

But wait…

From her perch, hidden in a thickly clothed oak tree, Soi Fong spied out Omaeda far below. He was eating something with a look of smug contentment clearly visible on his face from even thirty feet up.

Soi Fong frowned. It was a rice cake.

She had confiscated all of Omaeda's rice cakes, regularly searching his quarters for them, and kept them locked in a cabinet in her office. As far as Soi Fong knew, Omaeda hadn't been off the grounds to get any more since the last confiscation.

For Omaeda to have a rice cake now meant that he had managed to get into the cabinet without tripping any of the alarm. Soi Fong hadn't given the combination to anyone else, so it wasn't like he could have bribed someone.

Maybe she would have to pay a little more attention to him in future.

And get new locks.


	239. Why Not Then?

**Title**: Why Not Then?**  
Characters**: Shinji, Sakanade**  
Summary**: The zanpakuto feels he deserves answers. He won't be getting any.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Drama, Angst**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: vague spoilers for Deicide arc**  
Timeline**: post-Deicide arc**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 258**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"I always wondered what was holding you back. You knew as well as I did that he was scum and likely to stab you in the back as soon as look at you. You ought to have killed him."

Sakanade, Shinji notices, is slightly less sarcastic and insulting in his tone than he usually is when bringing up this topic of conversation, though the bitterness is still clearly visible in his voice. Lying on his back in the darkness of a hospital room, Shinji can just barely make out a shape darker than the shadows in the corner near the window, blinking lamp-like eyes at him.

Shinji groans slightly as he props himself up on his palms, wincing at the little stabs of pain in his ribs. "We've had this conversation before, haven't we?"

The zanpakuto's silence is confirmation.

"Then you should remember what I said back then." It's no use getting angry with Sakanade; they're stuck with each other, even if the zanpakuto's respect for his wielder isn't what it used to be. "There are laws, were laws that I had to follow. I couldn't just kill Aizen, even if I knew he was dirty; I had to expose him first."

"And after he was exposed?"

Shinji winces at the question.

"After he was exposed and you were all there, above the human city, why didn't you kill him then? Had you gone as far as you're capable, it would have been easy."

Shinji doesn't answer Sakanade.

Truth be told, he's not sure _how_ to answer Sakanade.


	240. Not Imagining It

**Title**: Not Imagining It**  
Characters**: Rangiku, Haineko**  
Summary**: Rangiku doesn't like being followed.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: during time skip**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 200**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Rangiku gets the idea that she's being followed the third night she walks home from the bar and she can hear rustles in the shadows and just barely make out the outline of…something in the darkness.

Frankly, she really doesn't like it.

At all.

"Alright." Haineko doesn't mind being drawn when her mistress is slightly drunk; personally, she's been getting bored and she wouldn't mind a good brawl right about now. "It's been fun guys, seriously, but the "stalker" shtick is getting _old_. So come on out, give up and go home."

The shadows do not respond.

Sighing slightly and telling herself that she won't hurt the perpetrators (too badly) Rangiku makes exploratory jabs into the darkness with Haineko, pale blue eyes darting back and forth.

Still, no response, except for the slight wind on the dark roofs and the suggestion of far-off laughter.

Rangiku sheathes Haineko, and sighs again.

Whether it's ghosts or mischief-makers or well-meaning friends, the glamour of this has entirely worn off. _And she doesn't even entertain for a second the thought that she might be imagining everything; that's simply inconceivable. She's not imagining it; she knows she isn't.  
_

She just wants to be left alone.


	241. Practice Sword

**Title**: Practice Sword  
**Characters**: Harribel, Apache  
**Summary**: "You will do better next time."  
**Pairings**: None  
**Rating**: T  
**Genres**: General  
**Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers  
**Timeline**: pre-Hueco Mundo arc  
**Author's Note**: Requests are open (I would really appreciate them) and feedback is appreciated.  
**Word Count**: 330  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

The cuts drive into her skin like the blade has a mind of its own _(and it does, though not quite the way she's imagining now_) and Harribel has to admit, Apache is getting _fast_. Not nearly fast enough, and no praise will be given for her performance, but it is something.

Sun-Sun and Mila-Rose get their turn at training tomorrow and the day after respectively; they've both been instructed to clear out from the training area, both to avoid distracting the duelers and to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. Their absence Apache plainly feels keenly, for she is calm and far more collected than normal. Mila-Rose and Sun-Sun goad her and far too often Apache responds, but today is different.

Apache wields the practice sword as though she handles one all the time (a product of some on-the-side training, perhaps?) small hand clenching the hilt as she runs forward towards her mistress. Harribel holds her own practice sword aloft, and deflects the blow easily.

The young Fracción is knocked back a few paces but recovers quickly. A sharp, harsh scream splits the air as she raises her blade above her head, advancing on his mistress once more, preparing to deal the final blow.

—And almost immediately, Harribel has her on the ground, the tip of the blade tickling her throat.

Harribel sheathes her sword when she is convinced that Apache knows she has been beaten, and walks away. "You will do better next time," she calls after her Fracción.

Apache understands. Weakness in her, weakness of any kind will neither be accommodated nor tolerated. If she is to make the cut, always, she must be beyond her peak, at the very pinnacle of strength.

She nods, and picks herself up the ground, sheathing her own sword and going to place it back in the armory. Apache then moves on back to her quarters to nurse her bruises, put salve to her cuts, and wait for the next time.


	242. Leeway

**Title**: Leeway**  
Characters**: Grimmjow, Aizen, Nnoitra**  
Summary**: Grimmjow knows how far to push it.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: General, Humor, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: pre-Arrancar arc**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 453**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"My impression of the whole affair," Aizen goes on pleasantly enough—no one is fooled; that hard edge is clearly audible beneath the mild tone, "is that you, Nnoitra-san, lost your temper and that you, Grimmjow-san, encouraged this development, via taunts and goading, until your altercation devolved into a drunken brawl. Would I be correct in making that assumption?"

The two Espada exchange cagey glances and Grimmjow reflects sullenly that _Ulquiorra_ is never taken to task over "unprofessional behavior". Both are wondering the same thing: is this little trip to the office going to end up with them dead? Despite their… differences Grimmjow and Nnoitra would probably have little difficulty in forming a cohesive group if it was in the interest of saving their necks.

_Somewhere, Szayel is laughing his head off at us, the bastard_. Grimmjow would implicate Ulquiorra as well, but as all the world knows, Ulquiorra Schiffer _never_ laughs. Or smiles. Or shoes much of any emotion, to be honest. _It's like talking to a statue._

"Gentleman, I'm waiting."

Nnoitra has his wide mouth clamped firmly shut, a stance of stubborn obstinacy he no doubt took with Neliel-sama on a regular basis when she was still among the denizens of Las Noches. Seeing as he's not going to say anything, Grimmjow decides that today is as good a day to die as any other and throws all caution to the winds with a nasty grin on his face. "Well yeah, I guess so. Wouldn't you say we had a good old brawl, Nnoitra? It was the most excitement _I'd_ had in weeks."

Nnoitra's one eye is visibly alarmed now and his thoughts are clear. _Are you crazy?_

Aizen doesn't miss a beat, the skin of his face still caught in an expression of disinterested pleasure. "Ah. So it was a brawl then?"

"Yeah, Aizen-sama, it was."

A dangerous patience spreads like spilled ink over the face of the Shinigami. "Well gentlemen, I have only one piece of advice for you. Considering that it is exceedingly difficult to find Hollows with the strength necessary to become Arrancar, I would suggest that you reserve your violence for un-evolved Hollows in future. Is that clear?"

Both Grimmjow and Nnoitra nod.

"You're both free to go, at that."

Once they're back out in the hall, Nnoitra glances sullenly at Grimmjow, muttering, "You're crazy as Hell," before walking away.

"What? It's not like he was actually going to do anything to us!"

Aizen's a heartless bastard who sacrifices soldiers without a second thought; everyone knows that. But Grimmjow also knows that the Espada are more valuable to him alive than in pieces. That said, Grimmjow likes to think there's room for just a little leeway.


	243. Exercising Discretion Is a Must

**Title**: Exercising Discretion Is a Must  
**Characters**: Unohana, Byakuya  
**Summary**: Unohana changed her mind. She really _didn't_ want to know.  
**Pairings**: None  
**Rating**: K+  
**Genres**: General, Drama, Humor  
**Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers  
**Timeline**: post-Turn Back the Pendulum arc, pre-manga  
**Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.  
**Word Count**: 401  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

A soft sigh, weary and even a little sad, cut the thick air like a knife. Alright, the weariness without a doubt outweighed the sadness, but the latter was definitely there. "So we meet like this again, Kuchiki-san?" Unohana asked with a gentle smile, surveying her charge's injuries as he laid out on the table.

The young Kuchiki Byakuya, unlike the captain of the Fourth, did not appear weary or even remotely sad. There was no hint of the contrite in his expression either. No, in stark contrast with Unohana, Byakuya was sullen, unsmiling and unwilling to do more than nod in assent. The consummate adolescent. If his sullenness was any more pervasive, it would most likely make the ends of his hair curl.

Unohana couldn't help but be fond of him, in the way patient adults were often fond of hot-headed, passionate teenagers, but really, she and Byakuya could not keep meeting in these circumstances. It was going to be the death of them both.

"So, Kuchiki-san, as I understand it, you come to me with a broken rib and several torn muscles." Unohana really couldn't understand why he started to squirm at this and wouldn't meet her gaze. She wasn't _that_ intimidating, was she? "Before you are treated for your injuries, it is not necessary but I would appreciate an explanation of how you have come to be in this state."

"Well I…" Byakuya's face reddened considerably, his cheeks going scarlet. His voice faltered.

Unohana waited. If Byakuya wanted to take his time, that was fine, but she _would_ have her answer, one way or another.

The young Kuchiki paused, clearly steeling his courage for something that wasn't going to be pleasant, he knew. Again, Unohana told herself she was willing to wait a few minutes. Byakuya wasn't going to drop dead in that time period; it wasn't like hew as in any danger.

Finally, face screwed up in an expression of mingled pain and hatred, Byakuya burst out, "I blame Ichimaru for everything!"

So _Gin_ was involved? That uncanny child who unnerved nearly everyone he met?

Well, that changed things.

"Thank you, Kuchiki-san; that will be sufficient." If Gin was involved, Unohana decided that she probably didn't want to know exactly how Byakuya had gotten into the position he found himself in.

The answer could very well scar her for life. Unohana wasn't willing to take that chance.


	244. Those Three Little Things

**Title**: Those Three Little Things  
**Characters**: Kiyone, Isane (in spirit)  
**Summary**: Kiyone spends her days three ways.  
**Pairings**: None  
**Rating**: K+  
**Genres**: Angst, Family  
**Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers  
**Timeline**: pre-manga  
**Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.  
**Word Count**: 406  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Kotetsu Kiyone is, in Rukongai, utterly alone. She is stranded in a strange place, bound to one reality and one only: journey. There is no other chance for her to survive but to make her way towards the interior, and try to find work when she gets there.

Walking on the dusty road amidst crowds gives Kiyone plenty of time to think while. Too much, in fact.

Kiyone finds herself often thinking about the blisters on her feet. She walked in rough straw waraji until they fell apart and now she's barefoot constantly, getting rocks, sticks and occasionally shards of glass stuck in the soles of her feet. Her feet are also constantly sore and achy, and Kiyone spends her evenings around campfires with strangers poking sullenly at the scabs and the blisters. It takes a great deal of perseverance to get up in the morning and walk again for the whole day. The only blessing is that her feet are becoming increasingly callused.

Even more often, Kiyone thinks about how she's going to support herself. She's already growing progressively thinner with the little foot she's able to procure via scrounging and begging. No one wants a child to work for them in the outer districts; what will make the ones in the inner districts want a child either. Well, there were _some_ people who wanted a child; Kiyone still shudders all over when she thinks about the… _work_ they wanted her to do.

But most often, her thoughts when she's at a campfire or on the dusty road stray to Isane.

Kiyone misses her big sister. Kiyone _wants_ her big sister back, wants to be able to be cared for and looked after but really to just have Isane's company again. She wants to have a friend to laugh with again, a compatriot to cry with again. Kiyone doesn't think that's so much to ask.

Dreams are horrible, dreams are wrenching, because dreams trick Kiyone and confuse her into thinking that Isane is with her instead of lost somewhere out in the great unknown.

When she wakes up, Kiyone knows.

Kotetsu Kiyone's days are consigned to walking and hoping that at the end of the road, she'll find success and a measure of happiness.

Kotetsu Kiyone's days are consigned to endless, aimless thoughts.

Kotetsu Kiyone's days are consigned to trying to stitch shut the giant hole in her heart, where her sister ought to be.


	245. When Shut Ins Talk

**Title**: When Shut-Ins Talk**  
Characters**: Rangiku, Soi Fong, Nanao**  
Summary**: This sort of talk is…odd, but Rangiku won't complain.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Friendship**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: no timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: This can be considered a companion to _Cohesion _and _Bucket List_. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 648**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"We haven't done this in a long while," Nanao remarks unnecessarily.

"Not nearly long enough, if you ask me," Soi Fong mutters, but the hint of a lack of conviction in her voice is evident and she is all-around ignored. Rangiku just drinks her glass of sake and waits for the mood to pick up and Soi Fong's attitude to thaw a little. It'll happen any time now, she hopes.

They've congregated in the lieutenant's office of the Tenth Division, since this is the only place where the three can go and be reasonably secure in the knowledge that they won't be spied on (The Shinigami of the Second make a career out of sticking their noses in other people's business and Shunsui has been known to pick up the habit as well). Rangiku has taken the liberty of locking the door, and really doesn't care if people think it odd; this was _her_ idea, and she'll do things the way _she_ wants to.

_What? Three women can't get together without it looking "suspicious"?_ Rangiku rolls her eyes at the word "suspicious", Soi Fong's contribution; that one, along with "fool" and "no", seems to be her absolute favorite word. Typical.

From Rangiku's position lounging on the couch, she eyes her two female companions, her "friends" (Though Soi Fong and Nanao both would balk at her use of the word "friend"). Nanao is sitting behind Rangiku's desk like she owns the place, eyeing the stacks of paperwork lying neglected on the surface with disapproval and a sort of weary acceptance—if Nanao gets it into her head to do Rangiku's paperwork the blond will consider it necessary to tie her hands behind her back; this is supposed to a be a time of _relaxation_. Soi Fong is perched in the windowsill, staring sourly into the night beyond. Rangiku isn't fooled; if she was really so miserable she would have left by not. She's just trying to avoid her lieutenant.

Rangiku bites back a sigh as she looks at her friends. Regular pair of partiers they are; none too talkative and antisocial to boot. Nanao wasn't always like this—she's evolved into the fine, icy specimen of emerging woman hood she is today—but Soi Fong, if anything, has crystallized and stagnated. She probably hasn't had a different outlook on life in a good eighty years.

This is looking to be a very dull evening. Rangiku drains her glass and reaches for the stash of bottles hidden under the couch gloomily, resigning herself to an evening in the company of the two most unrepentant—if beloved—unsociable shut-ins in the history of creation.

Until…

"Soi Fong-san, I understand it you've been having difficulties with some of the supporters of the old regime within your division?" Nanao asks Soi Fong delicately, eyeing the older woman warily; Soi Fong's liable to explode at any moment when that subject of conversation is brought up.

Soi Fong's lip curls back hideously. "The bastards," she spits acidly. "I came by power fairly—" Nanao and Rangiku exchange glances; "fairly" is without a doubt too strong a word "—and I intend to _keep_ power, whether fairly or not. Sail or ship out, and don't bother to show up on my doorstep again." She jerks her thumb in the opposite direction for disgruntled emphasis.

Nanao's face is one of mingled sympathy and curiosity. "Who are you having the most trouble with? I heard that Hiromasa…"

Rangiku falls back on the couch, smiling in satisfaction and occasionally offering observations of her own—all helpful of course, so helpful that Soi Fong comes to the point that she scowls blackly every time Rangiku opens her mouth. It's not quite the conversation she envisaged, but if it keeps those two talking, she's not going to argue. Failed coups and military intrigues _are_ kind of interesting, in their own way.


	246. It Took Three Hours

**Title**: It Took Three Hours**  
Characters**: Uryuu, Ryuuken**  
Summary**: Neither of them like weddings very much.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 692**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Ishida Uryuu has only once ever been to a wedding, and he can't really say that he liked it all that much.

To a nine-year-old boy, the wedding of two people whom he has never met doesn't mean much, except for sitting still and keeping quiet for long amounts of time (something he has had a great deal of experience doing), and being forced to circulate through a large of people he's never met (Which, conversely, is _not_ something Uryuu is used to). Personally, Uryuu likes to think he can be forgiven for finding the whole experience to be more than a little off-putting.

Ryuuken doesn't seem to have enjoyed it too much either. He avoided speaking to people as much as he could and probably only stuck around for the reception out of politeness. Uryuu isn't sure what that was about; something about it being rude not to stay the whole time, or something.

At about the time being in a crowd is starting to get completely overwhelming for Uryuu, Ryuuken finds himself accosted by an old friend (_He has, er, _had_ friends?_ Uryuu thinks in utter disbelief. The thought that Ryuuken, easily the most antisocial and unpleasant when angered man on the face of the earth, actually had friends at some point in his life is a truly mind-blowing concept—Uryuu still isn't sure what to make of the fact that someone was actually willing to marry him.) from high school who wants to know just how many times the groom has been married.

"_Is it the first time? The second?"_

"_The third," Ryuuken mutters, looking for any exit possible from the conversation and wincing at the smell of wine on the other man's breath. _Completely bypassed the champagne, haven't you?_ He thinks uncharitably._

Guessing (rightly) that his father won't notice he's gone, Uryuu decides to remove himself from the situation and spends the rest of the evening hiding out in a dressing room.

In the three hours it takes Ryuuken (who doesn't manage to get away from his old friend as quickly as he would have liked) to realize that his son is gone, Uryuu amuses himself by reading his way through all of the magazines stacked on a table, learning more than he ever wanted to know on the subject of celebrity marriages.

Once those three hours are up and Ryuuken notices for the first time that there isn't a child coming dangerously close to standing on his heels or looking up at him while desperately trying to avoid his gaze, he's distinctly thankful for the excuse to get away. In fact, Ryuuken only really starts to get worried after five minutes have passed and he doesn't see Uryuu anywhere.

Ryuuken only finds him because he left the door to the dressing room slightly open.

"Have you been here the whole time?" he asks the child, slightly incredulous.

Uryuu just looks up at him and nods.

"Ah." Ryuuken is noticeably uncomfortable now. "What are you reading?" he asks, both curious and slightly disgusted.

The child shrugs helplessly. "I'm not sure."

Ryuuken picks up one of the magazines and snorts. "Nothing of substance. If anything the mere sight of one of these magazines is probably enough to make someone's brain start atrophying."

Uryuu quickly puts the magazine he was holding down.

(_Though he is on many occasions exposed to words beyond the limit of his vocabulary in the company of his father, Uryuu has often been able to take a vague guess at their connotation based on the tone of Ryuuken's voice. Needless to say, that gives him a somewhat skewed impression of the connotation of several words, given his father's default tone of voice—acrid—but Uryuu gets the message this time.)_

"Am I to take it you didn't enjoy this... _delightful_ experience any more than I did?"

Uryuu's response (a quick nod, a spring to the feet) is all the excuse Ryuuken needs to motion him out and leave.

"Ah well. The only marriage you ever truly enjoy is your own. Unless _certain people_ are late, that is."

Uryuu has no idea what he means by that.


	247. When I Like You Best

**Title**: When I Like You Best**  
Characters**: Shuuhei, Soi Fong, Kira, Nanao, Renji, Yumichika**  
Summary**: Even the nutters have their good days.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Humor, Friendship**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: post-Soul Society arc**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **anubislover**.**  
Word Count**: 542**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Hisagi Shuuhei often finds himself in the truly unenviable position of wondering if he really is the only sane man around. The people he associates with don't do much to reassure him of anything in either direction.

Soi Fong is at her best irritable and at her worst the pinnacle of insanity. Even if there is something beautiful about the way all of the Second Division design their days and fall into place around a fearsome, diminutive woman (_great and terrible mistress_), her very aura is terrifying when she's angry and Shuuhei would not want to be one of her subordinates.

Kira is without a doubt a basket case. Ichimaru-taicho didn't help matters by constantly sneaking up on him and messing with his head with appalling regularity, but the kid was neurotic to start with. He jumps at loud noises and whenever Shuuhei's with him he can't help but wonder which medication Kira forgot to take in the morning.

Nanao is a bit of a cold fish. There's absolutely no other way to say it, though Shuuhei knows better than to say it in front of her—Nanao isn't violent like _some_ people he knows, but it still hurts when she hits. Her behavior towards her captain is an amalgam of polite deference and exasperation (Though granted, Shuuhei figures that if he was a woman and _he_ had to work under Kyouraku-taicho, his patience would probably be wearing thing too). It does well to avoid her on most days.

Renji… Ah… On the battlefield, Renji's a Grade-A Lunatic of the highest caliber, and if Shuuhei's honest, he's not much better off it either. He's known this one, like Kira, since he was a kid and he knows just how crazy Renji is. There's a reason he ended up the Eleventh Division before getting to be Byakuya's lieutenant, after all.

And Yumichika's the worst, for reasons Shuuhei has no desire to disclose to the public (so he proclaims with a faint bit of color rising along his neck), though it has a great deal to do with black-outs and a zanpakuto's tendrils sliding across his skin.

Then again, they all have their good days, too.

Shuuhei definitely appreciates Nanao's presence when she's trying to help him with the Ninth's taxes (He's never really had a head for complicated math and she, thank God, is a living calculator). Kira's much calmer when around the likes of Rangiku and Hinamori and it shows if he runs into Shuuhei after running into either one of them; he's actually smiling for once instead of wearing that worried, anxious expression that he normally does.

Soi Fong occasionally slips Yachiru some candy despite knowing just how hyper it makes her, and Renji accepts the presence of the little girl on his back when she wants him to take her places with far better grace than Shuuhei thinks he could manage.

Yumichika… Shuuhei likes Yumichika best when he isn't flashing that _What am I going to do with you now?_ smile at him. Usually, he likes Yumichika best when he's tired and slightly drunk and has the sharp edge of his eyes blunted by sake. Yeah, that's when Shuuhei likes Yumichika best, when he's not making him nervous as Hell.


	248. Lunch Line Debacle

**Title**: Lunch Line Debacle**  
Characters**: Ishida, Orihime**  
Summary**: She's not easily forgotten.**  
Pairings**: slight IshiHime**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers; may be non-canonical**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: As I said above, this may be non-canonical; just warning you. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **JaKiwi**.**  
Word Count**: 418**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

The first time they meet is in the eighth grade: she forgets about him five minutes later and he never gets her name.

Frankly, Ishida has never had a great deal of patience as to where waiting for his lunch is concerned. The lunch lines are ridiculously long even at the best of times, and somehow he always ends up near the back of the line; five minutes left to eat by the time it's all over.

There's a girl standing in front of him, chattering cheerfully to her friend without a care in the world. Ishida finds himself half-listening to her words, the snatches caught at random—_Math—Homework—is there a test, I really don't know—_just to have something to do. If she's worried about having time to eat her lunch she really doesn't show it; Ishida wishes he could experience that sort of equanimity.

He's so busy half-listening to her and wondering just _when_ he's going to eat that Ishida doesn't notice her stumble backwards and crash into him until he's on the floor, spitting her copper-red hair out of his mouth and wondering what on earth he's supposed to have done to the Universe _this_ time.

A spasm of laughter rings from the students nearby and Ishida feels his cheeks burn: being laughed at always rankles, no matter what the circumstances.

"Ooh, I'm sorry!" the girl exclaims, scrambling to get up, and smoothing her hair back down.

When he looks at wide brown eyes Ishida feels his face turn an even darker shade or red. He struggles for words (_She must think I'm an idiot)_ and as he gets back up all Ishida can do is readjust his askew glasses—sliding down his nose, one stem off his ear entirely—and look anywhere but at her.

Finally he regains his voice. "It's alright," Ishida mutters, staring down at his feet.

She smiles uncertainly. "Oh, okay."

The girl goes back to talking with her friend and Ishida decides he's bringing his own lunch from now on.

_Sure enough, within five minutes she's forgotten he exists—_Probably knows enough weirdos to populate one of the classrooms—_which is, more or less, how Ishida likes it._

_He doesn't forget though. It's kind of hard to forget something like some girl crashing into you and her hair somehow getting in your mouth and the bright flash of her wide smile when she apologizes._

_Those are the sort of things not easily forgotten. She's not easily forgotten either._


	249. On the Foot of the Bed

**Title**: On the Foot of the Bed**  
Characters**: Kisuke, Yoruichi**  
Summary**: Why does she want to be a cat so bad?**  
Pairings**: KisuYoru**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: no timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 285**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Occasionally, Kisuke would wake up in the morning to find a lump of black fur curled up at the foot of his bed, pulsating gently. The slight rolling hum of a purr filled the air and she looked perfectly content until he had to get up and smooth the coverlet back down. After that, golden eyes would stare at Kisuke, disgruntled, and she left, her tale flicking as she went.

Kisuke could only smile a little, shake his head and wonder at Yoruichi's habits.

It was hard to believe that anyone could be just as happy, if not happier in the form of a cat than that of a human, though considering it was Yoruichi Kisuke supposed he shouldn't have been so surprised—she really did have the oddest habits. For himself, Kisuke wasn't sure what the advantages of a cat's form were; Yoruichi's silence wasn't helping his research along at all.

When she transformed back into a human Yoruichi always retained some feline behaviors for the first few hours at least. Most of them could be dealt with or ignored. While Kisuke was too raptly fascinated to be even mildly disgusted, he still had to raise an eyebrow when he saw Yoruichi lapping milk out of a tin saucer instead of drinking it. Wasn't that even _slightly_ uncomfortable? Why was she content to put up with it?

There were no answers. Nothing in Kisuke's experience could explain this, and again, Yoruichi was not talking.

But somehow, Kisuke could never bring himself to give voice to any objections.

The little black cat looked so sweet curled up on the edge of his bed. Almost innocent; Yoruichi couldn't manage "truly innocent". And Kisuke _did_ love cats.


	250. Stuck In an Elevator

**Title**: Stuck In an Elevator**  
Characters**: Hanatarou, Ikkaku**  
Summary**: Once again, Hanatarou finds himself explaining his philosophy.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Humor, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: no timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Just a note: that really is a valid interpretation of "turning the other cheek". Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 517**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

From his position, back pressed up against the wall and knees drawn to his chest, Hanatarou glances at the frustrated man on the other side of the elevator, prodding the buttons in the attempt to make them do something, _anything_.

Hanatarou has, on more than one occasion been stuck alone with a Eleventh Division Shinigami. Usually, however, the situation entails him being cornered in some dark, wet alley to be shaken down, mugged or beat up. Usually, the situation does _not_ entail him and some Eleventh Division Shinigami being stuck in an immobile elevator together with all the lights off. _This_ is new.

There's still the suspicion that it will end the same way, and Hanatarou wonders exactly at what point the other man will start to use his body as an experimental punching bag.

Hanatarou flinches and starts to pull into himself when the sound of a fist clanging against metal races across the walls. "Come on, work!" Ikkaku shouts, no, _howls_, face contorting with frustration and sheer rage.

Feeling a need to speak up for the poor elevator, Hanatarou speaks up. "The power's out, Madarame-san. We're just going to have to wait until someone gets the back-up generator working."

Ikkaku snorts. "Whatever." He flops down on the ground beside Hanatarou, his long legs peaking like the limbs of a spider. A curious eye is turned on Hanatarou. "So you're the kid everyone likes to wail on, huh?"

"That would be me," Hanatarou mumbles, not meeting Ikkaku's gaze.

"Why don't you ever fight back?" This conversation is being advanced, Hanatarou is sure, only because Ikkaku is bored and recognizes that punching the elevator will not make it work. "I mean, everybody who jumps you is bigger than you, but you could at least throw a few punches."

Hanatarou bites back a sigh and launches into that all-too-familiar explanation. "I believe in turning the other cheek."

"Sure doesn't help much when the other guys don't bite."

Hanatarou tilts his head and frowns a little at Ikkaku. "Madarame-san, do you know where the expression "turn the other cheek" comes from?"

The other man shrugs indolently. "Nope," he admits baldly. "I don't see why it matters."

"The expression was birthed by the Christian prophet Jesus of Nazareth. During his time, people of greater social rank, when they struck their social inferiors, servants, slaves and the like, would do so by backhanding them with their right hand.

"However, what Jesus proposed was literally turning the other cheek. In so doing, if someone of inferior rank had angered one in the aristocracy or such, the latter would be faced with a dilemma. They could either backhand them with the left hand, which was taboo, or they could strike the offender with the palm of their hand or punch them, which carried connotations that they were treating the offender as a social equal."

Ikkaku snorts. "So what you're telling me is that people "who turn the other cheek" are demanding equal treatment when people hit them."

"Yes."

"…That's stupid."

Hanatarou sighs. "You have no idea how often I've heard people say that."


	251. Matter of Three Seconds

**Title**: Matter of Three Seconds  
**Characters**: Gin, Byakuya  
**Summary**: He knows they're not friends anymore when he looks at him like that.  
**Pairings**: None  
**Rating**: T  
**Genres**: General, Drama  
**Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Soul Society arc  
**Timeline**: Soul Society arc  
**Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.  
**Dedication**: Dedicated to **Kiwi-kiwi-kii**.  
**Word Count**: 333  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

This is what happens in a matter of three seconds:

Those gray eyes meet his in a last expression of defiance as Shinsou slides smoothly through his flesh. Gin can't help but raise an eyebrow; _I wasn't aware you gave a damn about your imouto, Byakuya, at least not this much, at least not enough to resort to this. Huh. I guess you're better at hiding things than I thought._

Byakuya doesn't budge despite the enormous pain he must be in, still clutching a noticeably dumbfounded Rukia to his chest and staring Gin down. It might be a little intimidating if he was staring at someone other than Gin (who has seen enough intimidating things in his lifetime to not be at all cowed by a fellow Shinigami who isn't Unohana or Yamamoto) and he wasn't dripping blood from his ribs.

Shinsou wriggles a little in Byakuya's ribs and he flinches, showing pain for the first time. Gin frowns beneath his painted split grin.

They were friends when they were young. Byakuya would deny it of course and there were times when even Gin had to wonder about the Kuchiki and whether he wasn't just using "friendship" as an excuse to kill him. But they were friends.

No one would be able to tell now. Gin knows they're not friends anymore when Byakuya looks at him like that—cold, burning and utterly unforgiving.

Funny. It ought to be Gin looking at him like that, since Byakuya's the one who's about to die, not him.

As quickly as Shinsou slid through Byakuya's ribs, it pulls out with a moist squelch and returns to Gin's side. Byakuya topples over and his "sister's" panicked cries fill the air. _I wonder. Just what is it you've done to win that sort of loyalty, Byakuya?_

It's a pity. If Byakuya had just stayed out of his way, Gin wouldn't have bothered him.

Ah, well. Too late to regret anything now. Byakuya's made his choice, and so has Gin.


	252. Not Too Late

**Title**: Not Too Late**  
Characters**: Byakuya, Rukia, Hisana**  
Summary**: It's all he asks for.**  
Pairings**: ByaHisa**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: Angst, Drama, Family**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Soul Society arc**  
Timeline**: Soul Society arc**  
Author's Note**: Short and disjointed; wonderful, isn't it? Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 307**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

_If this is to be the end, please let me live long enough to explain to her why it has been as it has._

Feeling the enemy's zanpakuto pierce his ribs and exit out the back, drawing blood away from him like some greedy beast, Byakuya wonders if things would have been different had he just bothered to fight, if he had just bothered to think and if that human child had not had to beat the thoughts into him.

Little else to do but nothing at all, in the position he's in. If he tries to move before the zanpakuto is drawn out, only greater damage will be caused. Byakuya waits as patiently as he can, glaring fiercely at Gin—_once friend, now greatest foe_—and knowing that his cold glower has no effect on him.

_I wonder just how disappointed she would be, letting her sister be thrown to the wolves._

Hisana's last wish is starting to haunt his mind now, as the world grows a little colder and Rukia's heartbeat, mashed up against his own grows more frenzied. A cold house and a brother who never sees was not what the dying Hisana had in mind when she asked Byakuya to find her sister and take care of her. Wasn't what she had in mind…

The blade screams as it withdraws and Rukia shrieks as he collapses. The sense comes that he shouldn't leave her alone, not quite yet. The sense comes that it isn't fair to die now, without at least telling her everything.

_Ah well._

He's done the best he can. A bit late, but still not too late to make a difference.

She's still alive, after all, and even if he dies now, he suspects Rukia will _stay _alive.

That's all he asks for. _It's all she ever asked for, too._


	253. Cherry Pits

**Title**: Cherry Pits  
**Characters**: Neliel, Nnoitra  
**Summary**: She has no idea what it is she did to deserve this.  
**Pairings**: NnoiNel  
**Rating**: K+  
**Genres**: Humor, Romance  
**Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers  
**Timeline**: pre-manga  
**Author's Note**: Well, Penny, you wanted a lighter NnoiNel; behold what my warped little mind has made of that. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.  
**Dedication**: Dedicated to **MyPenIsSharperThanYourSword**.  
**Word Count**: 394  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Unlike nearly all of the Arrancar present in Las Noches, Neliel really doesn't mind paperwork. Yes, she's not entirely sure what Aizen thought was necessary about introducing the system to Las Noches—Barragan's court got along perfectly well without it—but the thought of having introduced order to the decidedly _disorderly_ world of Hueco Mundo.

So she doesn't mind pencil-pushing; everyone else thinks she's nuts.

For right now, Neliel finds herself looking over reports and daily surveillance intelligence—normal stuff. She doesn't understand why that should make her a target. You see, for the last half-hour or so, Neliel has, at uneven intervals been pelted with small, round stones, and her usually infinite patience is fast on the track to running out.

_Plat_; another of the small stones collides with the side of her head and lands on top of her intelligence report on migration in the northern quarter. Neliel sighs and takes up the stone in her hand, looking at it closely for the first time.

It's a cherry pit.

Deciding that she doesn't have to put up with this anymore, Neliel takes the stone in her hand and starts in the direction from which the cherry pits have been coming from.

In a shadowy alcove Neliel finds her culprit and fixes him in a wearily irritated glare. "Nnoitra, would you mind explaining to me just _why _you have been pelting me with cherry pits for the last half-hour."

He stands up, and shrugs evasively; _I didn't know someone could make a shrug evasive, at least not to this extent_. "No reason."

Neliel suddenly finds herself fighting the truly childish urge to roll her eyes. "Then if there is no reason for your assault, please… Cease and desist, and leave me to my work."

Nnoitra looks entirely too sullen at this request for Neliel's liking, and she can't be more relieved when he just nods and lopes off, leaving the air feeling decidedly disgruntled. She sighs.

Work is commenced again and goes on for another fifteen minutes without incident.

Then…

A cherry pit lands on Neliel's desk; in the ink pot, in fact, splattering black ink across paper and on her face and clothes.

_What did I ever do to deserve this?_

Nnoitra's demented little crush is getting too juvenile for Neliel to stand.

Out comes the zanpakuto.

And out comes the screams.


	254. What Homework?

**Title**: What Homework?**  
Characters**: Juushiro, Shunsui**  
Summary**: In which Shunsui is a ditz.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Humor, Friendship**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: I'm certain the term "pick-up line" wasn't coined until _long_ after Shunsui and Juushiro were teenagers, but I'm going to use it anyway. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 339**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Shunsui, dare I ask what it is you're doing?" Eyebrows raised, Juushiro looks at his friend over the top of the parchment scroll. It's a lovely day and Juushiro decided to take full advantage of it by doing his homework outside. Shunsui, as per usual is completely blowing off his work; he'll probably remember that he has an assignment due sometime between midnight and three in the morning and stay up all night getting it done like always.

From his position standing in the grass, Shunsui flashes that toothy grin that has been the utter despair of their teachers for the past two years. "Practicing my pick-up lines, of course."

Juushiro snorts a little, managing a small smile for his friend's sake. "Oh, you mean the lines that never work?"

"Hey! I'll get her to like me this time, just you wait! _All_ the ladies will be swooning at my feet."

"Hmm, quite. And for now, if I didn't know better I'd swear that Mei-san's favorite pastime involves running away from you. Your pick-up lines definitely seem to be reaching, Shunsui."

Shunsui glares. "You have advice, I take it."

Juushiro shrugs lazily. "Perhaps."

"Oh come on, Juushiro; you _never_ go for the girls. You just sit there getting ink stains on your hands. Have you _ever_ known the joy of a woman, Juushiro? _Really _known it?"

Juushiro can't help but smile. It's not a kind smile, or even a particularly benign one. It's that famous/infamous "I-know-something-you-don't-know-Shunsui" smile; you know, the one that makes Shunsui's ears burn and the teachers cower behind their desks. "Actually, Shunsui, I have."

That simple line has the intended effect; Shunsui's jaw drops. "Who?" he demands.

"That's for me to know and you to never find out; she wants her reputation intact. But Shunsui…"

He hangs on his friend's words.

"If you help me with my homework, I might just give you some advice."

Shunsui pumps the air with his fist. "Yes! Thanks Juushiro, you're a—" He frowns. "Wait… WE have homework?"

Juushiro sighs.


	255. No Strenuous Activity

**Title**: No Strenuous Activities**  
Characters**: Unohana, Ukitake**  
Summary**: He was never quite this helpful before.**  
Pairings**: UkiUno**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: I don't usually do UkiUno, but I got an idea with Penny's request so here goes. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **MyPenIsSharperThanYourSword**.**  
Word Count**: 193**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Unohana Retsu, relatively new (and by relatively knew she has had the post for roughly fifty years) captain of the Fourth Division, prides herself on being a patient woman in all things. And really, there's nothing here to be impatient about. At least not on the surface.

But Unohana can't help but be a little suspicious. After all, things like this don't happen every day.

Personally, Unohana has a sneaking suspicion as to why the young boy keeps popping up out of nowhere whenever she needs help, be it lifting heavy objects or simply transporting medicine from one point to another. Ukitake Juushiro has never been quite this _helpful_ before.

Unohana would tell him that she doesn't have time for this, but she's just too polite to do so. That and the fact that it's a little flattering, all told.

"Ukitake-kun, I believe you have been advised not to commit to any particularly strenuous activity. It's not good for you."

Ah, well. As long as Juushiro's here, she can at least make sure he doesn't keel over and die on them like he threatened to do as a child. That was a nightmare.


	256. Bratty Youngest Child

**Title**: Bratty Youngest Child**  
Characters**: Yamamoto, Shinji**  
Summary**: He still thinks it was the right thing to do.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: General, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Fake Karakura Town arc**  
Timeline**: post-Deicide arc**  
Author's Note**: Even though Yamamoto can be a bastard, he's a bastard who always acts in what he thinks is the best interest of Soul Society. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 1035**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Yamamoto gets the abridged version of the story Shinji has to tell over the sky in a false city. His hair's short and he's wearing a bright orange shirt that clashes horribly with his blond hair but Yamamoto, not being the fashion police, neither notices nor cares.

With Aizen's defection, he hadn't at first thought at all about them. He's thinking about them now, as Shinji, sitting up (with difficulty) in a Seireitei hospital bed, shirt open and chest closely enveloped with bandages, gives him the full story.

If Yamamoto lets memory take him back three and a half centuries, he can remember the scrawny young thief, no older than fourteen or so to his eyes, who made the extremely ill-advised attempt to pick his pocket. Hirako Shinji, as the boy had introduced himself halfway back to Seireitei, wasn't going to learn to be a Shinigami entirely of his own will, but Yamamoto liked to think the terms had been equitable: Come back with me and I _won't_ incinerate you.

After that, Shinji had been quite eager to come with him.

Thus had started a bout of headaches like nothing Yamamoto had ever endured from Juushiro, Shunsui, or Retsu.

Yamamoto supposes he can say that he's had four children over the years.

Only Retsu is his by blood, and she is, if anything, the responsible daughter and eldest child, who believes in order and generates calm all around her. A breath of fresh air; that was what she always was and always has been.

Shunsui and Juushiro are the grown sons, still fond of mischief and having fun but at the point they're at no longer constantly endeavoring to give their father a heart attack. They've gotten past that stage at least and they've always treated Yamamoto with the respect he deserves.

Shinji… If Retsu was the responsible eldest child, and Shunsui and Juushiro were the easygoing, respectful grown sons, then Shinji was without a doubt the bratty youngest child who was stuck firmly in the stage of adolescent rebellion, at least during his first couple of years in the Academy.

He drove Yamamoto absolutely stark raving mad. Even when that quiet, dark-haired girl he hung around with tried to curb his impulses (usually via a short, sharp whack to the head), Shinji was absolutely incorrigible, and still something of a kleptomaniac even when the necessity towards thievery was erased from his life.

Yamamoto, for himself, gave as good as he got, if only verbally. He began to think that removing Shinji from Rukongai was not a good idea.

Personally, he didn't think the boy would ever get anywhere, and he didn't hesitate to tell Shinji that.

Then, something changed.

Just like that, Shinji's grades picked up. The delinquent, the one who never made decent grades, was now at the very top of his class, passing ever test and exam with flying colors. That catlike grin the boy was wearing when they passed in the halls for the first time after he made a perfect score on a test was absolutely predatory.

"_You were failing on purpose, weren't you?"_

"_Yeah, I guess I was."_

_Yamamoto can feel a vein throbbing in his forehead and can hear Retsu telling him not to overexert himself. "May I ask why?"_

_The boy's brown eyes are gleaming. "Sure. I failed on purpose to spite you, and when you made it clear that you expected me to be a failure, I decided I'd pass everything to spite you." He bows; it's impossible to tell whether this is genuine politeness or a mocking gesture. "Have a nice day, soutaicho."_

_It's the first time he's ever called him "soutaicho"._

Shinji's path from student to Shinigami to captain passed by in a haze. Yamamoto still couldn't believe it. He couldn't see anyone but the mouthy little boy who had once been a pickpocket and later a rabble-rouser and rule breaker. How had he gotten from there to being the captain of the Fifth? How?

Yamamoto still can't fathom it. Shinji just isn't captain material, at least not according to Yamamoto's ideals.

When the day had come, he had condemned them all utterly. How could he not? To fuse a Shinigami's powers with those of a Hollow's was the worst of abominations, and they were not stable. The attempt, it seemed, had failed, and the animal impulses of a Hollow had won out over the controlled order of the Shinigami.

They had to be killed. They had become animals, rabid animals, and they would be put down as such.

Even Shinji. No exceptions could be made.

He had been sure it was the right thing to do.

And even now, when Yamamoto hears the whole story, the _truth_ for the first time, he's still sure that it had been the right thing to do.

Yes, their souls had stabilized. The Shinigami and the Hollow within hold each other at arm's length; it's a fragile stability, but Yamamoto can see that balance, an unsteady balance, has been achieved. He won't try to have them killed now.

But there was always the chance that they wouldn't have stabilized, that the Hollow would have kept power and eventually eaten away at the human shell. It was only a lucky break that Urahara and Yoruichi were able to break them out and find some way to bring the Shinigami back to the foreground. There was every chance that it wouldn't have worked.

He still thinks it was the right thing to do.

"So…" Shinji's eyes are narrowed as he looks at him. "You always thought we'd done that to ourselves with Urahara's help, huh?"

"Yes."

"And the suspicion that someone else might have been responsible never even crossed your mind?"

Yamamoto's calm face never so much as twitches. "No."

"Ah." The hostility in Shinji's voice is manifest, and Yamamoto thinks that out of all the ways Shinji has looked at him over the years, he's never had him look at him like that.

It was the right thing to do.

However, Yamamoto knows now that he shouldn't have taken it all at face value.

Maybe he should have had a bit more faith in his bratty youngest child.


	257. Cough

**Title**: Cough**  
Characters**: Unohana, Ukitake**  
Summary**: She's used to the sound of coughing.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: Angst, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: This can be considered a companion to _Step Forward; _it takes place during the oneshot, while Unohana's waiting for are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 202**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Retsu is used to the sound of coughing. She is a physician, after all, and consumption is so widespread around Soul Society that she's even (all too) used to hearing the sounds of coughing from a body wracked with the dread disease.

This time though, it's penetrating.

She's alone in the dark bedchamber (lit only by a sputtering candle) with the dying boy—at least she thinks he's dying. Retsu isn't sure how close or far away it is from morning when he starts to cough. The sound startles her.

It was silent before. The silence was overpowering, oppressive, and the atmosphere isn't any less so when Ukitake Juushiro starts to cough. His small body is wracked with coughs and the child's face contorts; it is plain to Retsu's eyes even in this dim light.

She doesn't look at the boy anymore. He'll be dead by morning, she's sure; there's no need to be looking at him anymore.

The sound threatens to skewer her ears.

But Retsu can't stop herself from hearing it.

_Even when morning comes and Juushiro is not dead—just white-haired—Retsu can't stop hearing him coughing, even when she's not in her presence._

_It's a truly horrible sound._


	258. Breaking Out the Mallet

**Title**: Breaking Out the Mallet**  
Characters**: Orihime, Ichigo**  
Summary**: What does it take to be noticed around here?**  
Pairings**: onesided IchiHime**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Humor, Romance, General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Orihime has to get irritated sometimes. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **Kuchiki-san urahara**.**  
Word Count**: 223**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

It's an accepted truth, and anyone who knows Inoue Orihime will readily admit that she is a ridiculously tolerant girl. She puts up with things most wouldn't tolerate for a second and with amazingly good grace too, never complaining, never giving voice to any resentment she might feel.

It's really quite admirable.

But Orihime knows the truth. Even she has her limits.

Orihime gnaws on her lip and then sets her jaw as she watches Ichigo walk away, still as "blissfully" oblivious as usual, humming something absently. He plainly has absolutely no idea what it was Orihime was trying to say to him—that or he's just better at ignoring people than Orihime thought.

_Okay, this is getting ridiculous_.

This is the third time Orihime's tried to ask Ichigo out in the last two months. The results are about the same as usual: Ichigo doesn't give her time to finish her sentence, looks at her oddly, and walks off.

Orihime rubs her forehead, feeling a headache coming on. _What does it take to be noticed around here?_

She's starting to rethink her plans. Tatsuki gave her advice about her… _problem_ before and maybe, just maybe, Orihime is ready to use the advice her friend gave her.

At any rate, using a mallet as an educational tool is looking more appealing by the day.


	259. Pretty Hair

**Title**: Pretty Hair**  
Characters**: Gin, Rangiku**  
Summary**: She just needed the right lighting.**  
Pairings**: GinRan**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Romance, Friendship**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **Artemst**.**  
Word Count**: 200**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

It's summer and the bright light has never been easy on Gin's weak eyes. As he steps out of the little shack in Rukongai, he's forced to squint and put a hand up over his eyes. _This is why I like night better; at least the moon doesn't try to blind me._

There is an upside to summer though that Gin's more than willing to concede: at least in summer it doesn't get terribly cold at night and he's more than better off barefoot. _Ah, well. At least in summer I don't have to worry about frostbite. And there are other perks too._

As Gin emerges from the shack, his eye is caught by a flash of gold and he squints in the direction it came from, wondering wildly for a moment if the sun has come down to earth.

No, wait. It's Rangiku's hair. She's sitting on a rock nearby, humming something to herself; the strains of the song are so faint that Gin can't hope to catch the words.

He tilts his head as he watches her.

She has pretty hair, he's starting to notice. Rangiku's just never been under the right lighting before, for him to notice.


	260. Black Garbage Bag

**Title**: Black Garbage Bag**  
Characters**: Hiyori, Lisa, Shinji**  
Summary**: They get him home somehow.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Humor, General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 244**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Can he hear me?"

"I don't think so."

"Oh… good."

Hiyori nudges Shinji's head with her foot and, for a moment, she actually regrets kicking him in the nose. All the blood is _really_ inconvenient, and what's even more inconvenient is that he seems to have passed out.

Lisa sighs out her nose. "Yeah… Hiyori, if it makes you feel any better I don't think that kick would have knocked him out if he hadn't been drunk."

The younger girl only shrugs. "I don't feel guilty, so I guess that doesn't matter. The only thing I'm concerned with is how are we supposed to get him home? The bastard's bigger than us."

Jade green eyes flash and Lisa smirks. "I'm sure we'll think of something."

Catching on, Hiyori lets out a barking laugh. "Yeah. Something _really_ unpleasant for Shinji."

When Shinji wakes up the next morning tied up from the neck down in a black garbage bag on the couch of the seedy apartment Lisa's currently renting, the two women who were with him the night before sacked out on the bed in the corner and the chair nearby, he doesn't have to question how he got there. He just has to start screaming at the top of his lungs until one of them wakes up and gets him out, grinning and, uncharacteristically (not to mention terrifyingly) giggling.

The police aren't called. The tenants have long since inured themselves to the sound of screaming.


	261. Her Side of the Story

**Title**: Her Side of the Story  
**Characters**: Shunsui, Lisa, Nanao  
**Summary**: If things had gone differently.  
**Pairings**: Shunsui x Lisa  
**Rating**: K+  
**Genres**: General, Drama, Family  
**Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc; AU  
**Timeline**: pre-manga  
**Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.  
**Dedication**: Dedicated to **rex98goodwin.  
****Word Count**: 464  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Shunsui." No answer. "Shunsui, are you listening to me?" Still no answer. "Shunsui, come on."

Shunsui is busy enjoying reading the American tourist brochures. A bit too busy enjoying them, in fact, to hear Lisa or feel her tugging on his sleeve. He doesn't even notice she's there, in fact, until Lisa takes one of the guidebooks off of the shelf and hits him on the back of the head with it. "Ow! Lisa, what was _that_ for?"

Lisa's green eyes narrow as she, with a prim flick of the wrist, replaces the book on its shelf. "I don't like to be ignored, Shunsui, you know that."

Her temper has been less than even of late, and the fact that they both know exactly why is a point of tension between them. Just another sore spot that Lisa isn't willing to talk about and Shunsui isn't willing to risk his life bringing up in conversation. The kid probably doesn't need to know any more about that than she already does, at this juncture.

Lisa cuts him off before he can speak. "At any rate we need to finish with what we're doing here and move on. I don't know if we're being chased and I really don't want to find out." Shunsui wonders just what on earth it was that possessed him to jump ship and desert until she turns around and smiles. "At any rate the train leaves in fifteen minutes and I don't want to be late any more than you do."

Oh yeah. Now he remembers. He deserted because he didn't want to see her get killed over something she couldn't help. Or something like that. But really, couldn't they have just stayed with Urahara and Yoruichi if Lisa wanted security?

Ah well. Shunsui always wanted to go sight-seeing in the human world.

Nanao pops out from behind the next row and Lisa nods to her. "Got everything you need?"

"Check," the child answers promptly, nodding, dark eyes shining.

And Shunsui still doesn't think it was all that good an idea to drag Nanao into this; she's just a child, after all. However, Lisa insisted, demanding that she not be left behind, and Shunsui, who's always had trouble with _not_ humoring her, eventually agreed. Now, he has to admit he appreciates Nanao's company, if only because she's a sweet little kid and Lisa's always a little more like her imperturbable self around her.

"Alright then." She shoots a pointed gaze in Shunsui's direction. "Let's go."

Shunsui smiles a little as they leave and walk towards the train station.

He's glad he got Lisa's side of the story first. And he can't honestly say he regrets any of this.

The only thing he would have regretted would have been letting her die.


	262. Enabler

**Title**: Enabler**  
Characters**: Shuuhei, Rangiku**  
Summary**: She doesn't smile and he can't speak.**  
Pairings**: onesided ShuuRan, GinRan**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: Angst, Romance, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Soul Society arc**  
Timeline**: post-Soul Society arc, pre-Arrancar arc**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **Kuchiki-san urahara.  
Word Count**: 445**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

To others she looks considerably less beautiful with her eyes bloodshot and drooping and her voice slurred with a sea of sake sloshing around in her throat, but naturally Shuuhei doesn't notice. He's too drunk himself to be noticing small details like that, and he doesn't think anyone should be able to blame him.

There's plenty of reasons for all of Seireitei to be attempting to drink the memories away at the moment, and Shuuhei's got more reason than most to be trying to burn out his sight and hearing and recollections of things gone past.

Rangiku supplies the sake. Rangiku has, in the last two weeks or so, ended up his enabler, since Shuuhei can't find any better term to use than that. That's how his eyes fall on her in the first place.

Maybe that's not entirely accurate.

He's noticed her around. Shuuhei's hardly the only one; Rangiku's difficult not to spot, even discounting her most… _salient_ features. She's, under normal circumstances, bright and vibrant and possesses the sort of beauty that tends to hit people over the head to make them aware of its presence. Shuuhei's always felt a little dazed once she's out of his presence.

That smile… That smile is something else.

But she was always connected to someone else. Her brightest, happiest smiles were reserved for another man and Shuuhei always wondered if he was aware of how lucky he was, to have sunlight smile on him like that. He must not have been, to leave and go away and make her close her mouth and hide her teeth (She never smiles with her teeth anymore).

And now, Shuuhei doesn't know what to do. Kira's passed out against the floor and Rangiku's handing him another bottle of sake. He's got more than enough reason to want to burn out memory, but enough is enough, only he doesn't know how to keep the bottle's lip from meeting his. There's a searing feeling in his throat and he can barely connect it to the sake at all.

She smiles, but it's only a smirk. "Cheers, boys," and she doesn't seem to realize that Kira can't hear her. Rangiku doesn't seem to realize that she's drinking them both under the table—has drank, in the case of Kira—and that even if she's still going strong they aren't. Sake makes her careless; sake makes her cruel. Loss does the same thing.

Shuuhei wants to say something to her, but sake, demon of control lost, has taken his memory, his sight, his hearing, and his tongue.

He wishes he could see the sun again.

But she'll never smile that way, not for him.


	263. Taking the Medicine

**Title**: Taking the Medicine**  
Characters**: Yamamoto, Shinji**  
Summary**: Sometimes the kid is Hell on Earth and sometimes he's not quite as bad.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 617**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Yamamoto isn't much of a liar. As such, he can't readily deny that he has—on more than one occasion—wanted to kill Hirako Shinji, or at least seriously maim him. Usually either common sense or Retsu steps in to curb his more violent impulses, and the desire wanes as a few days go by and Shinji doesn't make himself heard in any particularly salient way, but one stupid act on the boy's part is usually enough to make it breathe again.

And Yamamoto's sure he isn't the only one to have had murderous thoughts towards the boy. He'd probably provoked his parents to that same place when he was alive.

It would take at least an hour to list all the things Yamamoto finds objectionable about Shinji. The boy is insubordinate (well, not anymore; he got rid of _that_ trait when he graduated from the Academy, Yamamoto will grant him that), he's at times insolent (though only openly, Yamamoto is noticing with increasing ire, towards him), and he's lazy, preferring to doze or nap as opposed to carrying his weight around the Fifth Division.

Yamamoto ignores the fact that _he_ was the one to snatch Shinji from his natural setting. Instead, he shakes his head and all he can see is a sorry good-for-nothing who will never amount to anything and never get anything meaningful done. He'll likely never rise in the ranks and be a grunt for the rest of his natural existence.

Anyone with eyes and the ability to use them will, the soutaicho is sure, see Shinji the same way he does, even if he is (in an exasperated, occasionally homicidal sort of way) fond of him.

But sometimes…

Yamamoto coughs, feeling the familiar pain in his chest and, as if on cue, someone knocks on his door. With a rough, jagged voice, he calls him in.

Shinji's not wearing his usual trademark grin and Yamamoto can't say that that makes him any more glad to see him than usual.

"Hirako. To what do I owe this honor?"

At that, Shinji adopts a tentative smile and points to the bottle on Yamamoto's desk. "Unohana-taicho wanted me to make sure you were taking your medicine so your flu will go away." His eyes narrow. "You aren't taking it, are you?"

"No, and I don't really see the need."

Shinji shrugs, not taking the hint; anyone even remotely intelligent would have backed away—_slowly_—if Yamamoto looked at them the way he did at Shinji just a moment ago. "Well, Unohana-taicho told me I'm not supposed to come back if you aren't taking it until you agree to take your medicine. And I really don't want to go back to Unohana-taicho and tell her I failed."

"Well you'll simply have to." Yamamoto dips his brush in ink. "I have no intention of imbibing anything that dulls my senses, even if it does speed my recovery."

Shinji's eyes narrow further. "You know," he drawls slowly. Seriousness floods his voice. "Unohana-taicho's not the only one who wants you to take the medicine so you don't get pneumonia and die. Even if you are an old geezer, it'd be pretty eye-raising if you died thanks to the flu and _not_ taking down some sort of Menos army."

With that, he leaves, and Yamamoto leans back in his chair and sighs.

He looks at the thin-necked bottle.

And Yamamoto reaches over, and drinks the allotted portion for that day.

Shinji is incredibly annoying under the best of circumstances—there's no denying that. But sometimes, he's not quite so bad, and Yamamoto's willing to acknowledge and value the knowledge that Shinji doesn't want him to die any more than Retsu.


	264. Just Like Always

**Title**: Just Like Always**  
Characters**: Ichigo, Ishida**  
Summary**: Ishida tries to keep his promises at least.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Friendship, Angst**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: during Arrancar arc; post-226**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 261**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"That looks like it hurt."

Ishida stiffens a bit when he hears Ichigo's voice from down the street, and his mind immediately goes to the obvious reason he's having those words thrown at him. _Well naturally bandages on your arm are going to draw somebody's attention. But why did it have to be his?_

Ishida stops on the sidewalk and doesn't look behind. He doesn't have to glance behind to know to look on Ichigo's face: perplexed, hiding concern beneath gruffness, just like his voice. _Ah, like this, always?_

There's a question hidden in there too, one Ishida has no intention of answering.

What he remembers of how he ended up with a bandaged arm is simple. Blood glistening on the floor and his nerves screaming. A single thought, wondering briefly if there's any escape from this situation, and then knowing that there isn't. An exacting personality and a hard, cold voice demanding silence as he promised. _"Look straight through them, and say not a word."_

_Alone, always?_

_Yes. Just like always._

Words can't be avoided, but Ishida doesn't look at Ichigo.

"Yes," he says, very quietly. "It did."

With that, he crosses the street to get home, and Ichigo doesn't follow him. He can still feel him staring at him though, having no idea of what to say. There's a whole conversation there that hasn't been said, and never will be said.

_I do… try, at least, to keep my promises, even if the promise has been made to someone whom I'm fairly sure is the bane of my existence._


	265. Sicker Than He Thought

**Title**: Sicker Than He Thought**  
Characters**: Ryuuken, Uryuu**  
Summary**: "I was unconscious for a day and a half and you didn't notice?"**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Family, Angst**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **Kuchiki-san urahara**.**  
Word Count**: 605**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

It's when he feels something being slipped out from under his head that Ryuuken wakes up and when he lifts his head Uryuu lets out a choked gasp and immediately takes a few steps back. The nine-year-old's clutching a thick tome to his chest and that's when Ryuuken realizes where he is.

Not in the bedroom, not asleep in bed. Instead in the room set aside, the study, his head against a book on the desk. And with that the all-too-familiar feeling of damp heaviness returns to his chest and throat. _Great. Sleep _didn't_ get rid of the cold after all._

He coughs. _Then again, maybe this isn't a cold._

Uryuu frowns, still holding the book. "Are you sick?"

Ryuuken bristles slightly and leans back in his chair. "Obviously." He can't quite keep the scathing note out of his voice—illness has always shortened his temper—and Uryuu wilts slightly, taking another step back.

"How long have you been in here?" Uryuu asks curiously.

_Always with those questions._

"Since last night," he answers shortly. "I fell asleep," he adds unnecessarily. Then, Ryuuken notices the amount of sun pouring through the blinds on the window. His eyes snap to Uryuu sharply. "Shouldn't you be in school?" A distinctly suspicious note enters his voice.

Uryuu looks at his father like he's grown a second head. "It's Saturday."

"Saturday," Ryuuken repeats blankly. "But it was _Thursday_ night." Though he doesn't see it a visibly frightened look comes over Uryuu's already pale face. Then it hits him. _I passed out; I didn't fall asleep. I must be sicker than I thought._

The second thought comes. "I have to call the hospital," Ryuuken mutters to himself. _Great, a day out of work and no one knows where I was, most likely._

Then his thoughts reach their logical conclusion. Ryuuken stares at his son incredulously. "I was unconscious for what essentially mounted to a day and a half—" this time he can't ignore the fear flitting over Uryuu's small face and he tosses his head uncomfortably "—and you didn't notice?"

Fear is momentarily shelved to make way for a flat defensiveness. "A lot of the times, nearly always, really, you go to work before I wake up and you don't get home until after I go to sleep." Defensiveness mixes with a silent accusation and Ryuuken's lip curls slightly. "Why would I notice anything odd?"

Uryuu has a point, Ryuuken has to admit. Reluctantly. _Good grief._ He holds a hand to his mouth as he starts to cough again. _This is about as close to hacking my lungs up as I've gotten so far in my life, and coming from a chronic smoker, that is saying something._

A small hand lights on his arm, and Uryuu is staring up at him uncertainly, brows knitted together. "Umm… Umm…"

Ryuuken shakes the child's hand off as if burned. "Give me that book back. And don't come in here again today. Or my bedroom, for that matter. Stay in your room, go outside, do what you want but don't come near me, do you understand?" he asks brusquely, staring over the top of Uryuu's head.

Uryuu ducks his head and nods quickly. "Y-yes sir." His assent is quiet as he places the book back on the desk and the silence is overpowering as he leaves.

A sigh hits the air as Ryuuken leans further back in the chair and squints against the light pouring through the window. Funny. It's usually Uryuu getting sick, not him.

_How I hate being in this position._

Uryuu avoids his presence for the rest of the day.


	266. Why The Ear?

**Title**: Why The Ear?**  
Characters**: Ikkaku, Yachiru**  
Summary**: Yachiru's taking up biting Ikkaku while teething. And not just his head, either.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: no timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 231**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Get off you little bloodsucker!"

To respond to Ikkaku's accusation/command/infuriated shriek Yachiru only mumbles something and refuses to let go despite the fact that Ikkaku's now clawing at the back of her tiny kosode.

_I think I liked it better when she taking out her teething pains on my _head_. Why the hell does it have to be my _ear_ now_?

Ikkaku tries again to pry Yachiru off of him and she only digs her fingernails deeper into his shoulder. "Yow, get off!"

"No!" This time, Yachiru can be clearly heard, and Ikkaku growls.

_I don't _want_ any piercings. How am I supposed to get this little demon off of my ear? _After all, Ikkaku doesn't think his dignity would survive going around Seireitei all day with Yachiru hanging off his ear. Not to mention the way the authorities would take it…

Then, Ikkaku gets an idea.

"Hey, Kusajishi-fukutaicho, there's some candy in taicho's desk. He told me to tell you he wanted you to have it."

Yachiru squeals and immediately relinquishes her hold on his left ear, taking off at a dead run towards Kenpachi's office.

Ikkaku groans and heads towards the bathroom to get some antiseptic.

It wasn't going to do much for his masculinity to go around with a little girl chomping on his ear. But really, going around with an ear swathed in bandages isn't much better.


	267. A Thousand Faces

**Title**: A Thousand Faces**  
Characters**: Ryuuken, Uryuu**  
Summary**: She always looks the same.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Angst, Family, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**:**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **Kuchiki-san urahara.** It's not exactly what you asked for, but I don't picture Ryuuken as being much of a praying person, and my guess is he doesn't talk to himself (out loud, anyway) all that much either.**  
Word Count**: 1103**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

He's home before dark, for once, though it's not by much if one accounts for the gray skies and the unenthusiastic rain. Uryuu has doubtless categorized this as some sort of miraculous occurrence, and Ryuuken could see the shock in his eyes as the boy stood waiting in front of the microwave, the smell of some previously frozen meal starting to permeate the kitchen.

Familiar blue eyes watch him with something like hope in them until he retreats down the hall and disappears into the study, and Ryuuken can't deny he's glad to have his son's eyes off him.

There is, of course, another pair of blue eyes, now two-dimensional, following him once he shuts the door and sits down at the desk. Sayuri, in the picture in the picture frame is the same as she ever is: lovely, immobile, and unchanging. She always looks the same now: untouched by time, lovely in death, that engaging smile ands straightforward, piercing stare frozen on her face. _Lifeless, just like…_

_Just like always._

She'll always look the same, no matter how much he changes.

Ryuuken leans back in the chair, letting the tension go out of his shoulders as he takes the picture in one hand, fingers on the back of the frame and thumb on the glass on the left hand side of the pane, careful never to press too hard. The glass is sturdy but Ryuuken has a strong grip and it never hurts to be careful.

There is another picture, he is well-aware. They are together, and Ryuuken actually looks—dare he say it—happy, instead of the anger or apathy that alternately blankets him nowadays. He has his arm wrapped comfortably about Sayuri's shoulders—he looks _young_, and she is showing every one of her teeth to the camera. This photo has been consigned to a desk drawer and hasn't been looked at in years. The same fate has befallen a photo of a three-year-old Uryuu, playing with small, smooth, river-tossed pebbles in the front yard and smiling wide; the picture was taken four years ago and was promptly put away when Ryuuken realized that he couldn't look at the face.

It's been five an a half years, and Ryuuken still doesn't know what he wants to say when he looks at the only picture he's willing to keep out of his late wife.

There are so many things he _could_ say but doesn't, instead leaving it to his thoughts and the silence. Ryuuken must have been, oh, he doesn't know, maybe fourteen the last time he prayed and actually expected whoever was listening, be it God, an angel or some departed soul, to care. He's long since known, known in the way of a man who never seeks to disprove his own assumptions, that prayer is futile because there's no one who cares—in short, God is out to get him.

Attempted communication with the dead is out of the question; Ryuuken knows full well that if a spirit can't _see_ him, it can't hear him either. And the ones he can see and hear, he avoids their gaze and notice at all costs.

_What would I say? What _could_ I say, if I had the chance to speak to you again?_ Ryuuken has the sneaking suspicion that he would just stand there, mute and unable to say a thing, if he ever got that chance. Speech does tend to fail him at the most inopportune moments.

_I… I do miss you, believe it or not. You used to joke that with the hours I kept if you were to take Uryuu and go it would be three days before I noticed but really, I do miss you. I miss you and I wish… I wish you were still here. This place is empty, and I—_

_It's harder, every day. Uryuu is impossible to deal with; too headstrong, too wont to cleave to my father, too much of the past in him, too much like you. Your pale, small shadow, your face in his. He mimics your every move, expression, caprice. I can see a thousand faces of those who have gone before us in him, shades of memory clinging to the traditions that brought us all to ruin, but it's you I see the most. The eyes, I suppose; the same shade of blue exactly. You all indict the way I have chosen to live and trust me, I do exactly the same._

_At least I chose to live. Ah well. No hard feelings from you, I know that much; I'm not sure if you've ever hated anything in your life. I wish I could say the same._

_And what's the point in wishing, I wonder? You always said that—_

"Father?"

Ryuuken is unceremoniously jerked from his reverie by that small voice. The picture frame is placed back on the desk and immediately he stiffens, returning to the stance he often—_no, always_—takes with his son.

Uryuu has pushed the door ajar with his shoulder, and in two small hands he holds a familiar black plastic tray, what strongly resembles warmed-up ravioli sitting in the tray. As he comes closer Ryuuken can see a shiny red burn on his right hand at the base of his fingers and the top of his palm; no guesses as to where it came from.

The child looks up at him without really looking up, his chin tilted upwards but his eyes cast to the floor. "Are you…" Uryuu bites his lip and forces himself to look at his father, no doubt recognizing that Ryuuken will demand eye contact soon enough. "Are you hungry?"

"No."

Uryuu licks his lips and nods. "Okay." He turns to leave.

"Uryuu?" Ryuuken calls after him. "Eat that in the kitchen."

"Yes, sir."

From the study and through the thin walls Ryuuken can hear clearly. Uryuu takes probably six or seven minutes to eat, neat and silent as always. After that, there's the rush of water from the tap over the sink, and Uryuu retreats to his room, no doubt to trace the pattern of water beads on the window as the soft rain continues to fall.

Ryuuken breathes a sigh and suddenly wishes the rain would stop, if only so he could whip out the familiar pack of cigarettes, the familiar lighter and go out on the porch. The direction his thoughts stray towards now have never given him anything but headaches and a heavy feeling in his joints.

_Business as usual. A house of silence, once more, and unrecognizable for the way you left it._


	268. Cold Feathers

**Title**: Cold Feathers**  
Characters**: Nanao, Gin**  
Summary**: "Sad, isn't it?"**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 429**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

One day when she is still very young and prone to being impressionable, Nanao finds a dead bird on one of the walkways of the Eighth Division's grounds.

She's been wandering the grounds, admittedly quite bored. Nanao has fulfilled all of her duties for the day and the afternoon is hers to do with as she pleases. The humid heat of summer is so oppressive as to discourage all but the most lethargic of activities and all the books have been read. There is really nothing for Nanao to do but wander through the gardens, breathe in the heady perfume of riotous flowers and try to keep her mind from wandering too far off the beaten track.

She turns a bend round a low stone wall which she knows houses a koi pond bordered by small, ornamental trees and that's when Nanao sees the bird.

It's a little brown wren, on its back, wings glued to its sides. Nanao crouches near the ground, one hand swept over her hakama and the other tentatively reaching out towards the little brown carcass. A small hand still lightly layered in baby fat strokes the bird's breast in exploration, feeling soft feathers.

"Sad, isn't it?"

Nanao starts and, springing to her feet and turning round, comes face to face with a boy she's never seen before.

The boy has glistening white hair, his eyes half-shut against the blazing sun. He flashes a too-wide, split grin at her and Nanao finds herself restraining the urge to shiver, despite herself. By way of physical development he looks about fourteen to Nanao's eight. "I couldn't help but notice your examination of that bird over there."

She nods shakily. "I-I'm sorry… I didn't hear what you said."

His shoulders shake in a bout of suppressed laughter and Nanao feels remarkably as though she's been cornered in a dark alley somewhere. "It's sad, don't you think? That little bird had remarkable wings—contraptions so intricate as to be the envy of nations. And now look at it. Dead because it couldn't avoid a window or a branch. The wings can't do it much good now."

With that, the boy is gone, vanishing into the buzzing afternoon.

Nanao frowns curiously at the bird. Her brow furrows.

Then she leans down over it, staring intently at the cold feathers, at the dull little beak. Small hands, no longer childishly venturing but now clinical and detached, lift up the wings, spreading them out under the sunlight and the gaze of keen eyes to see if it's as the boy said it.


	269. Waiting Until She Slept

**Title**: Waiting Until She Slept**  
Characters**: Nanao, Nanao's zanpakuto**  
Summary**: It was all remarkably anti-climactic.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: As far as I know, we've never learned the name of Nanao's zanpakuto, so the name and identity I give to said zanpakuto is purely speculative. And to **Art12**, I would suggest going to chapter 233. Requests are open and feedback would be appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 570**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Some Shinigami have to undergo a great struggle to finally meet their zanpakuto face to face. For Ise Nanao, all she has to do is go to sleep one night, exhausted, and she has to admit that the whole experience is nothing if not anti-climactic.

_I can't remember the last time the pillow felt quite so soft as it does now. _Nanao's thoughts are straightforward and simple as she removes her glasses and the clip from her hair—she only went to sleep with that thing still in and it wasn't a pleasant experience—and crawls into bed, not bothering to pull the bed sheets over her. It's a warm night and she's not going to be bothered with being stifled by her sheets.

Sleep is quickly and easily found, and beyond that, nothing.

At least not for about fifteen minutes.

.

Nanao is wandering the landscape of a dream she has entered—windswept grass and a few trees dotted on the hills from time to time. The sky is overcast but not particularly threatening as far as rain goes. Just a gray screen of clouds, rolling overhead.

"Hello." The Shinigami jumps a little when she hears that small, feminine voice, and jerks her head around.

A young girl, maybe ten years old, is poking her head out from behind a tree, smiling tremulously at her, her small hands braced on the rough tree trunk.

Nanao doesn't skip a beat. After all, she's sleeping, she knows she's sleeping, and this is hardly the first time she's interacted with someone she's never met before in a dream. This will just be like all those times before.

"Hello," Nanao calls back, forcing a smile to her face; smiles don't come naturally or easily to her. "Why don't you come out, so we can talk in the open?"

With obvious hesitation (shyness shows plainly on her face), the girl does so.

There's a vague similarity to their features. The girl is slim, pale and wraith-like, with glossy black hair hanging past her shoulders and short bangs. She has wide blue-gray eyes that stare up at Nanao with a strange sort of eagerness in them. Her hands are fiddling with the skirt of a blue yukata.

After a moment of the two staring at each other, the girl launches into speech. "Hi, I'm Tsuki no Chiyo; I'd really rather be called Chiyo, if you don't mind." She smiles wide as she goes on talking, a little fast Nanao can't help but notice. "I'm supposed to be a manifestation of your inner spiritual power, or something."

Nanao nods and smiles blandly before the impact of the last sentence hits her. _Wait… What._

She stares at the girl, who beams up at her now, her shyness forgotten. "Well, this is anti-climactic," Nanao mumbles, staring, perturbed, at her and wondering why on Earth the spirit of her zanpakuto chose to manifest _now_.

Blue-gray eyes open wide apologetically. "I'm sorry! You didn't look up to taking any more shocks while you were awake so I figured I'd wait until you were asleep."

"That's alright," Nanao apologizes hastily, deciding that she probably shouldn't antagonize her zanpakuto spirit on the first night she actually learns her name.

Chiyo beams.

_Wait until I tell Matsumoto-san about this_, Nanao wonders, as Chiyo tugs on her hand and leads her onwards through her wind-blown world. _I never knew zanpakuto spirits could be children._


	270. The Silence is Nothing More

**Title**: The Silence is Nothing More**  
Characters**: Ichigo, Tensa Zangetsu**  
Summary**: "I only ever wanted to protect you."**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Angst, General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Deicide arc**  
Timeline**: post-Deicide arc**  
Author's Note**: To **bookwormtiff**: not exactly what you asked for, but I hope this will do. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **bookwormtiff**.**  
Word Count**: 231**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"_I only ever wanted to protect you."_

_So you wanted to protect _me, _huh?_

_That's a laugh._

Ichigo sinks against his bed (finally back in it), and thinks about Tensa Zangetsu's words. The bitter voice still rings against his rib cage (so unlike the old man was this one that Ichigo can't help but think of them as two different people) and Ichigo is forced to remember.

"_I won't see you again_."

Ichigo had had to restrain a laugh at that. Idiot. He hadn't known what that meant when he heard that. He hadn't known what it meant at the time. Well he does now, and that sick, acrid taste comes back to cling to the roof of his mouth, never letting go, never relinquishing its grip.

"_I only ever wanted to protect you."_

Well, he'd be the first who ever wanted to protect _just _Ichigo.

_Yeah, I know that. Took it for granted, all that time. And now?_

_I never knew how bad silence could get. I never knew how loud silence was._

He can't hear anything. And when Ichigo realizes that it's going to stay this way, realizes that the silence will always be just silence and the shadow on the wall just a shadow on the wall, he closes his eyes and tries not to see, or hear.

The only way, really, to keep guilt from overwhelming him.


	271. Open Doors and Broken Glass

**Title**: Open Doors and Broken Glass**  
Characters**: Shunsui, Nanao**  
Summary**: Sometimes, Shunsui wonders where the broken glass in Nanao's office comes from.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Mystery**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 425**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

He sees it from time to time, when he's walking down the halls in the afternoon and, for whatever reason, Nanao's had to leave her office door open. Of course, it isn't _every _afternoon that she leaves her door open, it isn't _every_ afternoon that Shunsui has occasion to pass by the door of his diligent lieutenant, and it isn't _every _afternoon that she isn't in there and this is there instead. But on those afternoons, Shunsui takes notice.

Sometimes, there is broken glass scattered across the floor of Nanao's office. It's all over the floor like jagged, glittering snow, and Shunsui notices it and frowns, pausing in the doorway of Nanao's office.

When he looks up, none of the windows are broken. Apart from that, the only thing that's glass in Nanao's office is the cup and pitcher of water she keeps at hand so she doesn't have to get up if she gets thirsty.

So where on Earth did all this glass come from.

One day, Shunsui decides he's going to ask his lieutenant that very question.

He catches her in the morning. Nanao's just starting to get down to work so she shouldn't be too distracted.

"Nanao-chan?" Shunsui leans in the doorway, knowing better than to carelessly invade her domain when she's working.

Nanao doesn't even look up from her paperwork. The ink pen continues to scratch over the parchment. "Yes, taicho?"

"What was with all of that broken glass on the floor of your office yesterday?" he presses. "Where did it all come from?"

This time, she looks up. Nanao's face is perfectly cool and even as she responds, laying her pen down carefully so the ink doesn't leak out from the tip. "I don't know what you mean, taicho. There has been nothing out of place here."

Shunsui frowns. "Nanao…"

Now, a slight bit of color enters her cheeks; when he doesn't fix the suffix "–chan" to her name she knows he's being serious. "There has been nothing out of place here, taicho. And if there is, I am more than capable of handling it." Nanao takes her pen back up in her hand. "Is that all, taicho?"

Reluctantly, Shunsui nods. "Yes, that's all."

"Have a nice day then, taicho."

"You too, Nanao-chan."

Shunsui notices that Nanao never leaves her door open anymore after that day. When he tries the door, he finds it locked, and can only wonder what's going on over there, on the other side.

He never does find out where all the glass came from.


	272. On the Train

**Title**: On the Train**  
Characters**: Shunsui, Lisa, Nanao**  
Summary**: Someone had to be ready.**  
Pairings**: Shunsui x Lisa**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Drama, Angst**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc; AU**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: This takes place in the same universe as the previous chapter _Her Side of the Story_. You can consider it a continuation, and a considerably darker take on the situation. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **rex98goodwin**.**  
Word Count**: 749**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

It was nearing midnight on the train and Shunsui got the impression, by the look on Lisa's face, that if he tried to break the silence with words and woke Nanao up, the results would _not_ include Lisa having being happy to have something to talk about. But the words had to be said.

Nanao was asleep, her head lolled against the wall, Lisa's arm tucked around her shoulder. Shunsui sometimes wondered about this, wondered what it was between them but he didn't ask. How could he ask? There were some things that would always be secrets, at least for now; Shunsui figured he would find out eventually.

And Lisa was unusually quiet, even for her. She hadn't said a word since boarding the train—Nanao read travel brochures and the several newspapers scattered throughout the train to keep her occupied, and Shunsui talked easily with whomever he came upon. He'd always been able to make friends with a stranger; it just came easily to him.

Lisa? Lisa just sat in her compartment, looking as though she expected the walls to collapse on her at any second.

"Lisa."

Her cool jade green eyes turning on him was the only indication that Lisa had heard him. Her mouth remained a thin, closed line.

"Lisa, I think we need to talk." Shunsui lowered his voice slightly when he saw Lisa's gaze turn to Nanao.

He was constantly walking on eggshells with her nowadays. With the spirit of a Hollow warring with her human soul, Lisa was increasingly volatile and unpredictable, even if she gave little sign of it. Her newfound volatility did not manifest itself in wild, explosive ways. No. Instead, Shunsui noticed it in the way she was more likely to lose patience with a shopkeeper moving slowly or how she had to bite down hard on her lip, to the extent of drawing blood, when she heard whisperings, because she inevitably thought these whisperings were about _her_.

She really wasn't the same. Shunsui knew exactly why, but it still made him a little wary. Like he was expecting her to snap and explode at any moment, and really, he was.

But how, _how_ was he—or she—to fix this?

"Whatever it is, Shunsui, I'm sure it can wait until morning." It was impossible to tell whether or not the yawn that slipped from her mouth was feigned.

He tilted his head when he looked at her, and Lisa stiffened as she watched the last vestige of his easygoing demeanor slip away. There was only seriousness now. "I'm not sure it can." Shunsui nodded towards Nanao, who was still sound asleep. "Lisa, what on earth is she doing here?"

Good question.

That Lisa had some emotional attachment to the girl, Shunsui could understand. She and Nanao were rarely apart while they were still members of the Eighth Division, and Nanao seemed to have taken on the role of Lisa's helper and student in the art of swordplay. But this was foolish.

With a coldly detached eye, Shunsui could see that anyone was in danger around Lisa, as she was now. And Nanao was especially at risk. She may have had the mind of an adult but her body was still that of a child. Her grasp of Shunpou was shaky at best and she couldn't run fast enough if Lisa were to snap (_Shunsui resisted using any other word_).

And that was why he was with her. As much as Shunsui felt for her (_those were the things that couldn't be erased by anything, let alone a transformation such as the one that had been forced on her_), there was always the shadow hanging over her of what might happen, and if that possibility became a reality, someone had to be ready. An amalgam of Shinigami and Hollow was a danger such as reality had never faced. Someone had to be ready.

Lisa's eyes narrowed and the moonlight that melted across her skin and bleached it made her face mask-like. "Nanao-chan? She is here…"

Lisa broke off, her voice withering, and Shunsui waited, knowing she would finish, eventually.

"Nanao-chan is here because she must be. Now please, let me sleep."

The former lieutenant of the Eighth closed her eyes and twisted her head so it rested on the wall behind her, and Shunsui could only stare out the window at the dark landscape zooming by.

That hadn't been any answer at all.

_But really, were you expecting one?_

_No._


	273. Nanao's Long Night

**Title**: Nanao's Long Night**  
Characters**: Nanao**  
Summary**: The thing is, Nanao doesn't know where the glass came from, either.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: This is a companion to _Open Doors and Broken Glass_; unless you want to be confused go read that one first_._ Also, Tsuki no Chiyo is the name I've given to Nanao's are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 592**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

The thing is, Nanao doesn't know where the glass came from, either.

Tonight, this is the one time—the first time and, considering how the sake tastes the last as well—that Nanao has given into Rangiku's urgings and tried out the sake. Also at Rangiku's urgings, she's taken five saucers despite not really liking it at all, and as a result Nanao returns to the barracks with a heavy buzzing in her head and a slight catch to her walk. She holds her sake better than she thought she would, but still, Nanao hates this feeling.

_How can Matsumoto-san stand this? It's completely intolerable._

On the way to her quarters Nanao notices that the door to her office is open, the lights on inside. She frowns. _I closed the door and locked it before leaving. I turned off all the lights, too. I'm sure I did._

Normally, in such a situation a reasonable woman such as Nanao wouldn't venture inside, not alone. But Nanao, more than a little drunk, has lost some of her inhibitions so she moves inside her office, feeling the comforting weight of her zanpakuto hidden within her sleeve.

She steps inside her office, and finds nothing out of place.

Except the glittering blanket of glass shards on the floor.

_What?_ Immediately, Nanao takes a step back towards the threshold. Her eyes fly to the windows, but they remain unbroken, keeping out the muggy summer night. The water pitcher and glass on her desk too are intact, and there's nothing else in the room that could produce this sort of mess.

Nanao's breath catches in her throat; her pupils dilate as her eyes shoot around the office and into the hallway beyond.

There's no one there.

_Okay, calm down_. Nanao sucks in a deep breath, turns off the lights in her office and locks the door behind her, and starts to go for the janitor's closet. She knows there's a broom and dust pan in there; the mess will be cleaned up quickly. All memories of sake and drunkenness have been forgotten.

As she walks down the hall, footsteps follow.

"Hello?" Nanao turns around, and no one's there.

She starts to walk again, and like clockwork, footsteps sound behind her again.

Nanao whirls round, summoning the sternest expression she can manage when her face is dulled with drink. "If this is your idea of 'funny', then I feel the need to inform you that I don't share your sense of humor."

No answer comes. Her voice meets only the walls

The lieutenant of the Eighth pulls Tsuki no Chiyo from her sleeve and clips the zanpakuto at her waist; the wakizashi can be more easily drawn from that position.

Nanao tries her best to ignore the footsteps five paces behind as she draws the broom and dust pan from the janitor's closet and makes her way back to her office.

The door is flung wide open and all the lights are on, and Nanao wills herself to ignore this development as she goes to sweep up the glass shards and deposit them in her trash can. Then, she finally, at the painfully late—or early, depending on how you look at it—hour of three thirty-three in the morning.

When Nanao wakes up, she tells herself that the events of last night were nothing more than a dream.

That is, until she goes to her office, and finds the door swung until it's hit the wall, all the lights on inside, and the floor littered with broken glass.


	274. Something Phony

**Title**: Something Phony**  
Characters**: Nanao, Aizen, Gin**  
Summary**: Nanao meets Aizen for the first time.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: vague spoilers for Soul Society arc**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 545**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

She smiles and dips a bow when the captain of the Fifth acknowledges her, mild eyes going straight above her head, but when Ise Nanao first meets Aizen Sousuke, her first instinct is _not_ one that tells her to summon a ready smile. Instead, it comes across as a forced smile. Mercifully, he either doesn't notice or excuses it.

Nanao wonders just what she's gotten herself into.

Usually, when someone has an adverse first reaction to an officer of the Fifth Division, it's Ichimaru Gin. Nanao knows why people would be instantly wary of him. He's a singularly eerie boy, with his weak eyes perpetually half-shut against the sun and his white hair seeming permanently trapped underwater. He's entirely too polite at times and there's something truly unnatural about that smile. But Nanao has known Gin for long enough that she has become inured to the effects of his slightly twisted personality. Besides, Rangiku trusts him and even if she's a bit frivolous at times Nanao knows the older girl to be an excellent judge of people.

So while Gin is usually the one who provokes subliminal reactions of distrust and Aizen the one everyone trusts immediately, Nanao can't say the same.

There's just something a bit… _off_, about Aizen-taicho. Nanao can't pinpoint it, can't quite put her finger on it. Her overwhelming suspicion is so vague in what it is about Aizen-taicho that makes her hackles rise that Nanao wishes she could write it off as nothing. She wishes it was just her imagination, but she knows better. Nanao's imagination isn't inclined towards flights of fancy.

_Phony. That's the word. There's something phony about this man._ Like he's made of plastic, or wearing a Noh mask wherever he goes.

Nanao breathes a sigh of relief, despite herself, when Aizen-taicho moves away (he's journeyed to the Eighth to speak with Kyouraku-taicho, though Nanao doesn't know what about and she's suddenly struck with the urge to warn her captain to be on his guard), and leaves her to her walking.

That's when she notices, for the first time, the one that was standing in the man's shadow.

The heat is oppressive as Gin looks at her. He isn't wearing his usual too-wide grin; instead, there is placed on his lips a small frown. The boy hangs back, and waits until his captain is out of earshot to speak.

"You don't trust him?"

Nanao stares at him, firmly shut, and her silence is all the answer Gin needs.

He nods jerkily, as if with difficulty. Gin's discomfort (_how odd; usually he's the one making others uncomfortable_) is palpable.

"Good."

And with that, Gin is running off to catch up with his captain, and Nanao gazes after him, staring perplexedly at his shrinking back.

She has no idea what he means by that.

-0-0-0-

It takes Nanao some seventy years to know why Gin's only reaction to her distrust of his captain was "Good." Then, she knows, and she wonders why her suspicions never had the chance to reach the ears of others.

The answer comes down swift as the fall of an executioner's axe.

_Because he was above distrust, and those who have looked at him and seen something false had no idea where it came from._


	275. Sleepover

**Title**: Sleepover**  
Characters**: Byakuya, Gin, Soi Fong, Nanao, Rangiku**  
Summary**: Byakuya knows they're not just talking about boys.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers; _Cohesion _and _Bucket List-_verse**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: This serves as a companion to _Cohesion _and _Bucket List_. If you want to know exactly why Byakuya considers spying on the girls to be a bad idea, go read the latter. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 430**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"You know," Byakuya huffs, "I always figured that when Soi Fong-san didn't kill you the last time, you'd take that as a warning, thank the Gods for your good luck and never try something on the same scale again."

Gin predictably doesn't answer, and Byakuya seriously considers running home to check and see just how much life insurance he has on himself at the moment. He hopes it's a lot, and if it isn't, he's going to see about getting the number increased if he survives this—really, he is too susceptible to Gin's hinting and manipulations.

_Females and their social gatherings._

Thoughts soon shift.

_Me and my overactive imagination._

Because really, what _do_ girls do on sleepovers? Byakuya's wondered for years just what it is females of the human race discuss when they hole themselves up in a room and won't let anyone else in. He refuses to believe that it's boys like Rangiku tells them (He's sure she's just saying that to try and put a damper on their curiosity). He knows Rangiku, he knows Nanao, and he _especially_ knows Soi Fong. They're plotting something.

But trying to figure out what they're plotting may well cost Byakuya his life, if Soi Fong's running true to form.

Wishing beyond all else he'd brought a helmet, or a suit of armor for greater protection, Byakuya follows Gin as they approach the window. They can hear the girls talking now, but they can't make out clearly what any of them are saying.

Then, something cold and wet hits them both, and Byakuya yells before Gin can clap a hand over his mouth.

In future, if Byakuya ever gets to be the captain of a division he thinks he's going to ban buckets from his division ground. And those who play pranks with buckets full of water propped somewhere with a trip wire ready will be punished. Severely. Especially if it's against him.

The sound of a window being opened follows.

"Gentleman, and I use this term lightly…" Soi Fong comes to the window, propping her elbows on the sill and adopting an almost beatific smile that soon devolves into pure evil "…Ise, Matsumoto and I have some advice for you." Now, Nanao and Rangiku come to stand on either side of her. "If you want to live to see physical adulthood, we would advise that you go home. Now." The window slams shut.

Byakuya glares at Gin. "This is your fault."

"My fault! Why is it my fault?"

"Because it's _always_ your fault."

Gin doesn't have much to say to that.


	276. Mockery and Reversal

**Title**: Mockery and Reversal**  
Characters**: Neliel, Nnoitra, Szayel**  
Summary**: She'll never be heard 'round here again.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: General, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Hueco Mundo arc**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Short one, I know, but they can't all be long. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 134**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"I wasn't aware you had a death wish."

Those words are mockery and reversal, and Neliel, despite herself, grits her teeth as she stares up at a grinning Nnoitra and a smirking Szayel.

_Snakes both; worms both. _Her eyes narrow as they fall on Nnoitra. _And you…_

_You, I knew you to be an animal seeking death. I never thought your straightforward mind capable of deceit on this scale._

Neliel rears her head up to scream something black and vile, and that's when Szayel's smirk widens and she falls back to the ground. Darkness overtakes her, and she sees no more.

Her voice will never be heard around here again, they agree, and even when she is a child and not dead, the victory is still theirs.

She'll never be heard 'round here again.


	277. And For What?

**Title**: And For What?**  
Characters**: Lisa, Nanao  
**Summary**: Why had she brought her?**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Angst**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc; AU**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: This serves as a companion to earlier chapters _Her Side of the Story _and _On the Train_. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to** Senbonzakura666Kageyoshi **. It's not exactly what you asked for, but I hope it'll do.**  
Word Count**: 202**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

As Nanao got older, Lisa felt the shadows run deeper within her and it got harder to look at her.

_So what is this girl to you, hmm? _the spider's voice asked too-sweetly—as thought it didn't already know—and Lisa didn't answer. There were things the spider couldn't have, and Nanao ranked top among them.

It was just… difficult. Bearing the appearance of one roughly fourteen years old, Nanao already seemed an adult. She was an adult in miniature, her face resolute and set and stern. And the resemblance between them grew more glaring with each passing day, harder to ignore.

Shunsui once asked her why she had visited they bring Nanao when absconding from Soul Society. He's had a point; the child's life as she knew it in Seireitei was over. Most likely, Nanao's life had been ruined, now that Lisa stopped to think about it. And for what? A fugitive?

_Why _did _you bring her?_

Lisa wasn't sure. She set her glass down on the table, and stared out the window with night splashing against its panes.

Then, it came to her.

She couldn't let go. She didn't want to travel down that dark road alone. That was why.


	278. Moulded Tool

**Title**: Moulded Tool  
**Characters**: Gin, Kira  
**Summary**: It's easy enough.  
**Pairings**: None  
**Rating**: T  
**Genres**: General, Drama  
**Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Soul Society arc  
**Timeline**: pre-Soul Society arc  
**Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.  
**Word Count**: 353  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Gin wonders about his lieutenant. In fact, he's pretty sure _everybody_ wonders about his lieutenant; it's rather hard not too.

Kira Izuru is visibly emotionally unstable, going from normalcy to deep lows within seconds. The words _major depression _spring to mind, and looking at him Izuru definitely shows the signs of such. It can't be manic-depressive disorder because there are no highs; he's merely at something resembling a normal state of mind (as normal as Izuru can get) and then slips down into dark places and hard nights.

Of course Gin notices. He's watched the boy since long before he became his lieutenant. Gin has watched Izuru through his days in the Fifth, Fourth and finally the Third Division, when Izuru was finally shunted off to him because neither Aizen nor Unohana had much use for him and neither did anyone else. He's watched, and he's interested.

Unstable, vulnerable, fragile, liable to slip, fall and shatter into a million pieces of broken glass at any second.

This presents what Gin can see as nothing but a prime opportunity.

It is easy enough to cultivate the boy's devotion. Izuru looks daily for someone to attach himself to and he is soon mesmerized, devoted; so malleable is this child, so easily swayed, so weak of spirit that he can be manipulated by nearly anyone. Izuru stares at him and those milk blue eyes are nothing less than star-struck.

Izuru is so fragile emotionally and prone to mood swings and traveling to dark places within his mind that he is isolated. No one really wants to be too close to him, not even his friends. As a result, either no one notices or no one cares when Gin's sway over him becomes obvious. No one can be bothered to question if it's a good thing that Izuru's devotion to his captain is as feverish as it is.

This is good. Gin has fertile, untouched ground, and no one will interrupt him.

When the day comes that chaos must strike Seireitei, Gin will be ready to use his moulded tool.

And Izuru will play his part perfectly.


	279. Such Treatment

**Title**: Such Treatment  
**Characters**: Ryuuken, Rangiku  
**Summary**: He didn't think he'd be the one drilled for information.  
**Pairings**: None  
**Rating**: K+  
**Genres**: General  
**Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers  
**Timeline**: post-Deicide arc  
**Author's Note**: This is, of course, going on the assumption that if Isshin really was a captain of the Gotei 13 he was the captain of the Tenth Division and that Rangiku would have been his lieutenant. And yes, I know, most bizarre character combination ever; just bear with me. As ever, requests are open and feedback is appreciated.  
**Word Count**: 479  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"I knew he had to be staying with someone. I mean, you can't live off the land for as long as he was trying to imply he had without it showing up. And, yes, eventually I did manage to get him to slip up and say he was staying with someone. He wouldn't give a name, though."

Honestly, Ryuuken knew that Kurosaki Isshin, when he made the decision to stay in the world of the living, was leaving people behind. He knew the Shinigami had left friends behind, and if not friends than at least subordinates or associates. And, truth be told, he's often wondered since then how those people Isshin left behind felt when he just disappeared off the face of Soul Society for good.

But Ryuuken had rather hoped that, once they found out Isshin was alive, they would be drilling _Isshin_ for information, not him.

Oh well. This could get interesting, and it will be nice to have _something_ on Isshin once again.

"It wasn't entirely voluntary… Matsumoto-san, was it?" The blonde woman in a shihakusho nods, and Ryuuken goes on. "He just showed up in my apartment and didn't leave for nearly seven years." He sighs and half-glares at the windowpane. "I still maintain that he got the better end of that bargain."

It's a testament to her self-control that Matsumoto doesn't cringe at this. "Ehh, I'm sorry. Kurosaki-taicho never really knew when to stop. His grasp on propriety was always a bit shaky."

"That hasn't changed, I assure you."

This time, Matsumoto does start to look uncomfortable. Her brow furrows. "Was it really all that bad? He can be a bit _boorish_, but really…"

Ryuuken snorts. "Let's put it this way. I never had migraines before I met Isshin, and afterwards for the first three years or so I probably had one once a week or so. He drove me to smoking; if he tells you it was because of an exhumation, that was just what I told him. I had absolutely _no _desire to get up at three in the morning to go looking for him because he'd gotten so drunk that he couldn't walk back. Finally, if Isshin had just been content to keep his nose out of my business I suspect my wife and I would have been married about five years before we were."

For a moment, Matsumoto just stares at him, both eyebrows raised. Then, she tips her head back and starts to laugh, the slightly raw sound filling the room.

"That sounds about right!" A slightly wistful look flits across her face, and then it's back to nostalgic mirth as Matsumoto wipes tears from her eyes. "Rest assured, Ishida-san. You're hardly the only one he ever subjected to such treatment."

_Oh, so there are other victims?_

He sighs. "That makes me feel _so_ much better," Ryuuken remarks sarcastically.


	280. Two Black Eyes

**Title**: Two Black Eyes**  
Characters**: Renji, Ikkaku, Yumichika**  
Summary**: They have no idea how they ended up like this.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: General, Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: This takes place while Renji is still a member of the Eleventh. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 217**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"How did we both end up with two black eyes?" Renji asks Ikkaku upon realizing what the pain in his head is, sitting up on the walkway and groaning.

Beside him, Ikkaku does much the same, putting a hand to the side of his head as he sits up. Sure enough, just like Renji he has two black eyes and, in his case, a long scrape on the side of his head. _Maybe that's where he hit the ground._

Ikkaku shrugs, wincing at the movement. "Not sure. I don't remember anything."

"Oh, you don't? That's a good thing?" A new voice intrudes on the conversation, and their eyes whip around to see Yumichika, hair slightly wet, advancing on them.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you—anymore. But you know, you two, the next time you want to spy on someone in the shower to see if they really _do_ have a peacock tattoo, find a better place to hide. Or just _ask_ me, for God's sake."

Yumichika stalks off, and Renji exchanges a slightly alarmed glance with his Third Seat.

"When this gets out we aren't going to have _any _dignity left, are we?"

"This _isn't _getting out," Ikkaku responds grimly, getting to his feet to run after Yumichika.

After a moment, Renji follows him.


	281. Twisted or Broken

**Title**: Twisted or Broken  
**Characters**: Hitsugaya, Rangiku  
**Summary**: Hitsugaya swears it's broken.  
**Pairings**: None  
**Rating**: K+  
**Genres**: General, Humor, Friendship  
**Warnings/Spoilers**: No spoilers  
**Timeline**: no timeline needed  
**Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.  
**Word Count**: 359  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

With surprising gentleness for such a woman, Rangiku probes her captain's ankle with two fingers, trying to see what the problem is.

She's still not quite gentle enough to keep the action from being painful. Hitsugaya hisses sharply and glowers unappreciatively at his lieutenant. She winces. "Sorry, taicho. Just trying to figure out what the problem is." As if they don't already know, but Rangiku just wants to be sure.

"Hurry up, then," the young captain mutters snappishly, grimacing, shutting his eyes and trying to think of something remotely pleasant aka something that doesn't involve Rangiku probing his throbbing ankle.

Finally, she's done and Rangiku stands, smoothing down her hakama. "Hitsugaya-taicho, I stand by my previous assessment. You have a twisted ankle; it's not broken."

"Then why the Hell does it hurt so much?" he growls. Personally, he's still inclined to think his ankle's broken. Rangiku isn't a medic, nor does she have even the most basic medical training; she could so easily be wrong.

To her credit, Rangiku does not lose professional calm and her face doesn't crack into a smile. "Probably because it's going to hurt a great deal regardless of whether it's twisted or broken, Hitsugaya-taicho." Maybe Hitsugaya's paranoid or just supremely irritable today, but it feels as though Rangiku said his name on purpose.

Seeing that he still doesn't believe her, Rangiku tries a different tack. "I can get someone from the Fourth Division to look at it if you want a definitive diagnosis."

"That'd be nice," comes the answering grunt. Hitsugaya hobbles to the couch, and flopping down props his injured foot up on a couple of cushions. Rangiku hands him the ice packs and he gingerly lays it out over his swollen ankle. _Well… That feels better than I thought it would._

"I'll tell the Third Seat to stay nearby. He should be able to hear you screaming if you need anything."

"Yeah, sure."

Hitsugaya leans back against the couch's arm, brooding. Now will be the perfect time to ponder on the merits of accepting dares from members of the Second Division.

When he finds that little brat he's going to _kill_ him.


	282. Holding Out For a Coincidence

**Title**: Holding Out For a Coincidence**  
Characters**: Isshin, Kaien, Ichigo**  
Summary**: He tells himself it's not reincarnation.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: pre-Arrancar arc**  
Author's Note**: I am personally _not _a fan of the "Ichigo is a reincarnation of Kaien" theory, especially since _that_ little theory seems to have been blown clean out of the water as of the Hueco Mundo arc. This is just Isshin's speculation, anyway. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 275**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Personally, Isshin hopes it's just a coincidence that his kid has come to so closely resemble Shiba Kaien.

_Sheesh… All you have to do is dye his hair black and slap some green contacts on the kid and no one would be able to tell the difference._

_As it is he could pass off as Shiba's kid, easy._

The last time Isshin saw Kaien, the man was alive and well. They were chugging down sake together, as it happened—well, Isshin was chugging it down; Kaien was drinking more slowly and watching the older man's progress disbelievingly.

"_Really?"_

"_Yes."_

"_I hope that kid you've roped into letting you stay with him has a _lot_ of painkillers then."_

_"Yeah, he does. Kid gets migraines."_

_"Is it any wonder why?"  
_

Now, he can almost see Kaien again, except it's _not_ Kaien. It's his surly teenager son, and Ichigo looks like a shorter, orange-haired version of Kaien. Really, it's scary how much the two look alike.

In his mind, Isshin tells himself it's _not_ reincarnation. Reincarnation doesn't work like this; either the reincarnated soul looks _exactly _like the previous incarnation, or they look nothing alike. They don't get the exact same facial structure but different eye and hair color. They just don't. At any rate, Isshin would be able to see Kaien somewhere in there, and he sure as Hell doesn't see Kaien anywhere in Ichigo.

It's still uncanny though.

Isshin tells himself that if and when he ever gets back to Soul Society, the first thing he's going to do is look up Kaien and make sure he's still breathing. He's still holding out for a coincidence.


	283. Not Shyness

**Title**: Not Shyness**  
Characters**: Byakuya, Rangiku**  
Summary**: Rangiku's not supposed to be shy.**  
Pairings**: hinted GinRan**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Angst, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Soul Society arc**  
Timeline**: post-Soul Society arc, pre-Arrancar arc**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 387**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Byakuya?"

He recognizes that voice before he sees the glimmer of gold hair and the familiar face. He just hears her voice, hears her sitting down beside him and Byakuya knows of only one woman in Soul Society who can call him by his given name and get away with it. It's always been a little difficult to get angry with Rangiku over something like that.

Byakuya's nod is, as per usual for him, noticeably stiff. "Matsumoto-san."

And as usual, Rangiku doesn't seem to notice. "You seem to be feeling better." The thick, humid summer wind pulls through her hair and she rakes it down. As she does so, Byakuya frowns. There are bandages wrapped about her hand.

She notices his scrutiny and a rueful laugh hits the air. "I have no idea how I got this. Goes to show you how observant I am, huh?"

Byakuya doesn't answer. He's not sure what to say. Rangiku's laugh sounds absolutely false and shaky, and he thinks he knows why. That said, he's not the person who ought to be addressing the situation, all things considered. He's the last person who needs to be addressing the situation.

"So…" Rangiku's face is considerably more serious when Byakuya is dragged out of his thoughts to hear her "…your sister… She'll be alright?"

He doesn't look at her. The nod is stilted. "Yes."

"Ah."

Rangiku was there when everything was said. She heard everything, knew everything. A part of Byakuya, numbly curious, wonders what she must think of all of this. A part of him, defiant of all scrutiny, prefers not to wonder.

"Well…" Rangiku puts a hand on his shoulder. Though Byakuya hates the expression on her face, it's impossible to deny the reality of the furrowed brow and the narrowed eyes "…what about you?"

"I am perfectly fine, Matsumoto-san."

The lieutenant of the Tenth Division ducks her chin shyly, and something in Byakuya's mind screams that this is wrong—Rangiku is _not_ shy, she never _behaves_ with anything remotely resembling shyness and only someone who has no idea who she is would ever think that she might _be_ shy.

But on closer inspection, Byakuya realizes that it's not shyness. He's not sure what it is.

Her lip quivers, and Rangiku gets up and walks away before he can find out.


	284. Stripping Away the Illusions

**Title**: Stripping Away the Illusions**  
Characters**: Shunsui, Aizen, Shinji, Lisa**  
Summary**: Who better than them?**  
Pairings**: slight Shunsui x Lisa**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: The way I figure, Aizen had to be genuinely surprised sometime; if it's OOC, then so be it. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 338**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

At this exact moment, Shunsui can pity Shinji's painfully green, flabbergasted lieutenant. The poor boy's having all of his illusions concerning the dignity of the captaincy of his division shattered to the floor at this very moment.

But it's all Shinji's fault anyway. Shunsui at least knows when to stop with the alcohol (a knowledge that will be broken years later with the disappearance of a certain bespectacled Shinigami), and Shinji can't hold his liquor as well as Shunsui—things like that only increase with age, at least with Shinigami.

Poor little Sousuke. The young man is staring at his captain, lolled unconscious on Shunsui's couch. Lisa's taking great pleasure in poking Shinji's ribs with one long, bony finger and declaring that the fact that he can't feel it definitely means he's passed out and not sleeping.

Or maybe dead. Lisa's not entirely sure on that point. What they're all sure of is that Sousuke looks more alarmed with each new assessment.

Shunsui claps a hand on Sousuke's shoulder. "Sousuke, the only thing I can tell you is to wait here for your captain to wake up. As it is I'm not sure you could carry him back to your division."

Eyes still wide, Sousuke nods. "Perhaps that would be best, Kyouraku-taicho."

Lisa tugs on his sleeve, eyes veiled but showing an unmistakable hint of sympathy. "Come on, Aizen. Let's go somewhere where we can't smell the sake ingrained in the walls."

"Lisa, you wound me!" Shunsui calls after her, putting his hands over his heart as Lisa pulls Sousuke outside into the fresh air. This has the effect of weirding Sousuke out even more; poor kid, he doesn't understand any of this at all. "Your cruelty is like a spike of ice straight to my heart!"

"Poetic as usual, taicho." She sounds distinctly unimpressed.

Oh well. He has to be stripped of his illusions some time, and who better to do that then the likes of Kyouraku Shunsui, Yadomaru Lisa and the head man himself, Hirako Shinji?


	285. Paragon of Hedonism

**Title**: Paragon of Hedonism**  
Characters**: Shunsui, Lisa, Nanao**  
Summary**: When she was there, he always knew when to stop. Now…**  
Pairings**: past Shunsui x Lisa**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: Angst, Drama, Romance**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Timeline**: post-Turn Back the Pendulum arc, pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: I think from here on out I'll be writing as I get inspiration (or requests I want to use) instead of trying to post daily. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 512**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Nanao's never sure of what to do with him and Shunsui supposes he can't blame her—_he _doesn't know what to do with himself when he feels the black moods slip over him, so why should she be expected to know?

Shunsui knows he's never exactly been regarded as a paragon of self-control. In fact, the operative word would likely be 'hedonist'. Yes, he's a paragon of hedonism around the Gotei Thirteen instead of one of self-control. He displays little control when it comes to the alcohol and nine times out of ten Nanao's running up her blood pressure trying to make sure he doesn't get himself killed in some dark alley.

Poor girl. She deserves better, really.

These days, Shunsui is regarded as the most self-indulgent Shinigami in Soul Society just as much as he ever was. Since he's always been that way, no one really takes the time to notice that his drinking is considerably heavier than it used to be.

There was someone who stopped that, once. At one point in time, there was someone available to make sure Shunsui didn't drink himself into oblivion. In fact, the very thought of her was enough to make Shunsui show moderation; guilt arose at the thought that maybe she'd be worrying about him all night.

Well, she's not here anymore, and Shunsui still has to live with the knowledge that that's his fault. He'll have to live with it every day for the rest of his life, not knowing where Lisa is, what shape she's in or if she's even still alive, and he doesn't want to have to think about it.

Even when he's roaring drunk, Shunsui can still remember. Memory remains unconquered, so they say. Ah, well. When he's drunk Shunsui can still remember Lisa, but the edge is off; her outline is vague and fuzzy and her green eyes don't seem quite so vivid as before. That's the only mercy, and he still seeks oblivion within the bottle.

Nanao doesn't know what to do with him. She perhaps suspects why, but can't be sure. For that, Shunsui is glad. There's another reason for sake's heightened allure, one that would mortify and disgust her if she knew. It's not Nanao's fault she's so like Lisa that she might as well be the woman's younger sister or something. It's never been her fault, so Shunsui doesn't want her to know that he has a hard time looking at her from time to time, that he can't stand the thought of sending her out on a mission because, like Lisa, she might not come back.

But she knows. Nanao is a smart girl. She knows, and Shunsui can see her biting back bile.

Lisa would have known what to do. Her very presence was enough to make Shunsui show restraint.

When she was here, Shunsui always knew when to stop. For her sake he was always able to restrain himself.

And now?

The floodgate has been opened, and all Shunsui wants is to be able to not remember her so keenly.


	286. Light Bulb Moment

**Title**: Light Bulb Moment**  
Characters**: Urahara, Soken, Ryuuken, Uryuu**  
Summary**: He thinks he's finally got it.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: during the events of the manga**  
Author's Note**: Just something portraying Urahara having a "Eureka" moment on a completely random subject. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 647**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

One day, Urahara thinks he's finally got it. He could be wrong, he certainly could be wrong since, even though he's known the family for so many years he isn't exactly privy to the most private of their interactions, but Urahara thinks he's finally solved a question that's niggled at him for close to twenty years now.

Of course, it's not an all-consuming question; it never has been. It's just been something Urahara thinks about randomly off and on when his mind starts to wander and there's nothing else to think about. Because really, why are Ishida Ryuuken and Ishida Uryuu so different from their father and grandfather, respectively?

Urahara has known the eldest Ishida since he was a relatively young man. Soken was always pleasant, always nothing less than cordial even if he did always become visibly more alert whenever Urahara was in the same room with him. He was also considerably more easygoing than either his son or his grandson.

Ryuuken Urahara has known since he was a child and for some reason the Shinigami will never understand, he has _never_ liked him. He just immediately reacted negatively to him upon their first meeting (when the child was at the tender age of three) in the visceral sort of way a dog tended to react to a cat. Personally, Urahara was practically relieved when the boy's mother whisked him away; a three-year-old wasn't supposed to be able to glare like that…

As for why Ryuuken's dislike and distrust of him persisted into adulthood, well, there was that one time… But Urahara insists to this day: she was pretty, she was amiable, and he had _no idea_ she was Ryuuken's girlfriend. _She_ gently rejected Urahara then laughed the whole thing off. Why can't Ryuuken?

Uryuu Urahara didn't meet until he was a young teenager. The boy, as in all things, is something of a midpoint between the extremes of his father and his grandfather. When they first met Uryuu was frostily polite and made no secret of the fact that he trusted Urahara about as far as he could throw him. He was, in short, a product of his upbringing, if it could really be called that. As of right now, Urahara knows that Uryuu has come to the point he _sort of _likes him and _sort of_ trusts him, and Urahara is honest enough with himself to know that he finds that satisfying.

Knowing all three of them has led Urahara to make certain observations. Somehow, Ryuuken and Uryuu have gotten to be completely different than Soken, despite the fact that Ryuuken and, essentially, Uryuu as well were both raised by the man. One is relatively easygoing and laid-back while the other two are, well, _not_. Ryuuken's as cold as a block of ice and Uryuu is possibly the most high-strung teenager he has ever met.

Then, it comes to him in one of those singular 'light bulb' moments your hear so much about.

Each loss either one of them ever experienced, Ryuuken and Uryuu treated as a body blow, and they never really recovered from it. Soken, on the other hand, who was always blessed with a far greater understanding of human nature than the two who came after him have never possessed, didn't treat it as though it was a position that would never be reversed and even though the loss of parents, brother and wife all deeply grieved him, he never lost the ability to see beyond the plane of life he currently inhabited.

It's simple: Soken accepts death the way neither Ryuuken nor Uryuu have ever been able to. The son and the grandson rebel against the reality of death. Soken is at peace with himself, and Ryuuken and Uryuu are both at war with themselves.

Urahara wonders why he didn't see it before, and goes back to checking over inventory.


	287. Tranquility, Finally

**Title**: Tranquility, Finally**  
Characters**: Neliel, Harribel, others mentioned**  
Summary**: It's usually on her off days.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Friendship**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Hueco Mundo arc**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 265**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Sometimes, mostly on her off days, Neliel is persuaded to leave her usual haunt and seek out the company of the only fellow female Espada in Las Noches.

Maybe it's because Aizen's gone and done something to antagonize the general population of Hueco Mundo yet again. Maybe it's because Neliel, as much as she loves her Fracción, really just wants a little breather from their company. Maybe it's because Nnoitra's being Nnoitra again. Hell, maybe it's just that Neliel wants to hear another female voice.

No matter. It doesn't matter why Neliel comes and finds Harribel; it doesn't matter what her reasons are, really.

She just shows up some days, and Harribel is ready.

Sun-Sun will brew tea for them both. She makes good tea; Neliel likes the strong, faintly sweet and faintly earthy taste it has. Whatever Harribel's Fracción were doing before she arrived in their quarters they cease doing; it's all stopped and put away. The three young women gather their things and retreat to the next room to give their mistress and her guest some space.

Finally, there is silence. Neliel and Harribel sit side by side on the latter's couch, quietly sipping tea and breathing slowly.

Neliel sighs, and tiredly does she sink back into the luxuriant white cushion. Whether Harribel knows she needs to talk or knows she needs the tranquility of silence, Neliel is easy to read at times like this. Clear and transparent as glass.

_What a relief_, especially for anyone involved too, since a stressed-out Neliel isn't a Neliel anyone wants to deal with.

Not even Nnoitra.


	288. Pounding on the Door

**Title**: Pounding on the Door**  
Characters**: Sora, Orihime**  
Summary**: This can't go on.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: Angst, Family, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: none**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: I know Sora and Orihime are presumed to be full-siblings, but come on: they're fifteen years apart in age, they don't look that much alike, and Sora outright said their mother was a prostitute. The likelihood that he and Orihime have different fathers is considerable. Also, as you've probably gathered, posting "when the inspiration strikes me" is something a bit different from "posting every day just to have a rhythm up." Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 395**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

_This can't go on; this can _not_ go on…_

Sora chokes down bile from the stench of cigarette smoke as he holds the baby to his chest and rests his cheek on her downy hair. "Hard to believe you're Hell on wheels when you're awake," he mutters for his sister's benefit, and gets only a small cooing sound from Orihime in response. She looks like a little angel as she is now, at least if you ask Sora.

Pity about the bruise as big as her brother's thumb stretching on her small pale arm; that utterly ruins the effect.

Nursing his own sore ribs and aching head (not just from the smoke), Sora chokes on his words and his anxious thoughts and as ever his eyes stretch towards the door. Freedom is knocking from the other side and he can't quite make it to the door.

_Picture this_, his mind tells him. A lanky teenage boy, with nervous darting eyes and a limp on one side because his leg aches so badly.

_Picture this_: his half-sister, a baby, in his arms constantly and never in the arms of the one called "Mother" or "Father". A baby whose colic and preternatural awareness of her own unfortunate situation makes her cry at all times. A baby whose cries are silenced with fists.

_Picture this_: a mother who walks the streets at night and comes home smelling of sex and grime, coins and bills crushed in her fist. Her eyes are heavy and soulless and they block out the light. Her scant, threadbare clothing slips from her bony shoulders too soon, too fast.

_Picture this_: a father whose breath reeks of alcohol and whose eyes are never open except to rage. He hates everything and everyone and resents the very existence of a beautiful baby girl who he knows is not his.

It's all so real. It's all too real.

Sora shifts Orihime in his arms. "Mother" isn't home yet and "Father" is passed out on the couch; this is how he likes them best.

His eyes dart towards the door again. Waiting for the telltale sound of crashing footsteps, uneven from broken stiletto heels on the apartment building stairwell. Waiting for the telltale pounding, beckoning him onward, whether to let her in or let him out he doesn't know.

_This can't go on. This can't go on._


	289. Eighteen

**Title**: Eighteen**  
Characters**: Sora, Orihime**  
Summary**: This is how he celebrates it.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: Angst, Family, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **bleach-otaku**.**  
Word Count**: 820**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

There are many different ways to react to an eighteenth birthday. Some treat it with elation, others with trepidation, and still more with the expulsion of all anticipatory feelings—a sort of _"Finally" _reaction.

Inoue Sora agrees with the third option, shrugs a little at the first (happiness is of no use to him; it can not feed him nor can it keep him warm at night), and shakes his head vigorously against the second. There is plenty of trepidation within him, plenty of fear, but not for the herald of the sun on the day he turns eighteen.

His eighteenth birthday goes unremarked within his "family's" apartment. Orihime's too young to really understand about any birthday but her own. His father's too drunk to notice; his mother's still asleep from working the streets the night before.

Today, Sora is leaving.

He'll wait a couple of hours or so. By then his father will have likely passed out again and his mother will still be asleep; she sleeps like the dead or her husband when he's drained a sake bottle again. They won't notice.

Sora has been working for the past year and a half; this he has concealed from his parents, hiding every cent he earns from their sight. He knows that if they knew they would take the money and he would never see it again; he won't let that happen.

Sora has money now and he'll use it. He's been looking through the newspaper, sifting through ads for cheap apartments and he has one in mind. If the money runs out he'll just live in the gutter—that's essentially what he's been doing all his life, so why should it be any different if he feels the rain when he sleeps? Anywhere's better than here.

-0-

Three hours come and go and the coast is clear.

"Niisan, where are we going?" Orihime asks confusedly as Sora buttons up her threadbare purple jacket.

"Shh." Sora holds a finger up to his lips and smiles heavily. "Quiet."

Originally, he wasn't going to take his sister with him. Originally, Sora was just going to cut and run for his life, out of the house and out of his parents' lives. That was the plan—cut off all ties with his former life, that was the plan.

But things changed as he started to think.

Through the three years of Orihime's life, Sora's borne the brunt of his parents' rage against her on principle. If he can't fight back against them directly than making sure Orihime isn't the one who constantly feels the hand against her skin, not the one who constantly feels fingernails digging into her flesh or fingers knotting in her hair.

Orihime has learned not to cry in front of her mother and stepfather. She is bright and quick and eager to please, and she knows from painful experience that crying in front of them will evoke _anything_ but happiness.

So she is instead the cheerful little girl she knows will at least placate them for a little while. She smiles but never laughs (_they don't like the sound of laughter any more than crying_) and twirls on her heel with her arms outstretched like birds' wings. The small cigarette burn scar on her upper left arm near the shoulder is pitch black and shiny in the light slanting through the grimy windows and Sora can tell just how much Orihime wishes she could sprout feathers, flap her wings and fly away.

What happens to her if he flees and leaves her behind? That question subjects Sora to many sleepless nights, and eventually he comes to the realization that he can _not_ leave Orihime behind. She is a small, fragile child whose ribs can nearly be felt through her skin. She has never been safe here. Her life is forfeit if he leaves and does not take her with him.

This wasn't the original plan. This was something Sora hoped he wouldn't have to do, but there are a lot of things he hoped he'd never have to do and what's one more to add on?

Sora knows he'd make a better parent than his own. They won't come looking (_or so he hopes_). They won't even notice that the two children who were taking up valuable space in their apartment are gone.

Orihime's eyes flick towards _their_ bedroom and Sora grimaces—she's three years old and she already knows what he means when he wants her to be quiet. "Where are we going?" she whispers, the veil of bright copper hair falling over her eyes.

Sora swings her into his arms, feeling the duffel bag as a heavy weight over his shoulders. It's nothing. "Somewhere else."

The free air blasts in his face as he steps outside.

Nothing has ever felt so good, and for the first time Sora can smile at this simple fact: _I'm eighteen._


	290. Like a Small Animal

**Title**: Like a Small Animal**  
Characters**: Orihime, Sora (mentioned), Tatsuki (mentioned)**  
Summary**: She still wants to cry.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: Angst, General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: I'm pretty sure Orihime got her hair hacked off by those girls before Sora died; if she didn't, just think of this as AU. She's referring to Tatsuki as "Arisawa-san" instead of "Tatsuki-chan" in this because she doesn't know her well enough yet. I'm sure most of you already know, but "ginger" and "carrot head" are derogatory terms for those with red hair. There's another one I can think of but somehow I can't see it coming out of the mouth of a middle schooler.**  
Word Count**: 474**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Orihime eyes her now too-short hair in the bathroom mirror and sighs, to her horror having to bite back tears as she fingers a shorn lock. Though any girl in her situation would be forgiven for crying, to her it feels almost… _uncharitable_, if you want to use that word.

_I feel so naked._

Sora must have noticed something off about his sister's explanation for why her hair was a good foot shorter when she came home from school than it had been when she left home that morning. Orihime couldn't stand to tell him that this wasn't her choice, but surely he'd noticed something off—the too-wide eyes, the way the smile was utterly false.

If Sora noticed anything off, he didn't show it. He only told Orihime she should have waited and sat her down, cutting her hair until it was all of an even length.

"_Sorry, Orihime, that's the best I can do," Sora apologizes, and Orihime smiles up at him, lip twitching slightly._

"_It's alright, Sora; it looks fine."_

Orihime wishes that wasn't a lie. Sora could tell she wasn't being entirely truthful and patted her shoulder, going to lie down on the couch and sleep.

_It… It _could_ have been worse, I suppose. At least I have some hair left._

Her hands still shake a little as she grips the sink though, and those eyes Orihime sees staring back at her are drained and weary.

Once long red hair barely hangs to the chin and Orihime frowns suddenly. She never noticed how skinny her neck was before. _I hope my hair grows back soon._

She'd wanted to cry then and there at school but Orihime hadn't dared in front of Tatsuki. She didn't know Tatsuki very well but she knew that if she started crying in front of the other girl this would only provoke Tatsuki into unleashing even more violence on the gang of girls who had cornered Orihime with a pair of scissors. Orihime didn't want that, not even for them.

Even bruised, they hadn't looked too frightened of Tatsuki—one of them was even waving a long lock of red hair in the air as they ran off.

_Arisawa-san was very kind to intervene for me today. _Orihime looks at her short hair and decides she'll never cut it again—trim it once in a while to get rid of dead ends, but never cut it again. Tatsuki would like that, she muses.

Orihime still wants to cry though. It's not even the words those girls used—_ginger _and _carrot head_ and a host of other slurs aside—that makes Orihime's stomach churn and her throat grow warm and swell shut.

It's just…

_Like I was an animal to them. _She was so very helpless. _Like I was a small animal, completely incapable of defending myself._


	291. Mary Mary Miss Contrary

**Title**: Mary Mary Miss Contrary**  
Characters**: Shinji, Lisa**  
Summary**: "Hey, I kinda like that name for you."**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Humor, Friendship**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 224**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"Milk it for all it's worth, why don't you?" Lisa tosses her scarf over one shoulder and the gleam on her glasses tell Shinji all he needs to know. He grins and pats the seat beside him; after a moment of exaggerated diffidence, she does so, sniffing primly.

"Don' know what you mean, Lisa," Shinji remarks vaguely. He hasn't begun to drink yet but the way Lisa's looking at him Shinji might as well be soused.

Her thin mouth curls in a snarl. "You called me up, invited me to a bar in the middle of winter despite me telling you I'd given up drinking the last time we met."

So Lisa told him. So Lisa told him while she had been attempting to keep Shinji from dragging her out on another one of his drinking binges. _But it's not _fun_ to do it all alone, Lisa, can't you see that? You don't have to drink; you just have to be here._

"So you've said, Mary Mary Miss Contrary—hey, I kinda like that name for you," Shinji comments suddenly, eyes lighting up. "Fits you."

Shinji orders a drink—martini, dry, and leave the bottle—and Lisa pinches her nose and sighs. She wants to leave but it's too cold outside.

"Mary Mary Miss Contrary, heh-heh."

_This is going to be a long night._


	292. Artifact of a World He Hates

**Title**: Artifact of a World He Hates**  
Characters**: Sora, Orihime**  
Summary**: What if Sora hadn't taken Orihime with him?**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: General, Angst, Drama**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: AU; warnings for dark themes and mentions of sexuality and prostitution**  
Timeline**: AU**  
Author's Note**: In all reality, if Sora had left Orihime with their parents she probably wouldn't have lived to see five. Let's just assume she did. Also, let's assume Sora wasn't hit by a car in this universe, and that thanks to his mother he has a thing against prostitutes. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 604**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

You know, Inoue Sora once swore to himself that he'd never return to this part of town after he'd left. He left his past behind here and his past isn't something Sora likes to think about. He lives for the future and the past can go to Hell for all he cares.

He's back, though. It's for work; Sora's supposed to be meeting someone in one of the run-down apartments in this part of Karakura Town. It's for work and Sora has to make a living somehow; even if he doesn't like it he doesn't have much of a choice. _Just part of the job, I suppose._

A young woman comes walking up to the bus stop where Sora's sitting and the moment he takes in her appearance he feels his hackles rise involuntarily: prostitute, plain as day; she even smells like sex. Camisole and miniskirt so high it shows off most of her thighs, and that's all she's wearing. _Just like my mother._

Okay, so those memories aren't as far-buried as Sora would like.

"Hello." The girl smiles sweetly and so guilelessly that, for a moment, Sora can almost see someone other than the girl who gives her body to men for cheap sums. "Is this seat taken?"

Sora shakes his head stiffly, keeping his eyes firmly on the girl's face and not on her body; better not to give her ideas. "No, it's not."

"Thanks." Plainly exhausted, the girl flops gracelessly down beside him. Sora sneaks a look at her out of the corner of his eye.

The girl can't be any older than fifteen; she's unusually well-developed for a girl of her age, and judging by her apparent poverty (going by her threadbare clothes and thin, bony frame), Sora doubts she's had work done. _You'd think she's had three kids already. Maybe she has. _The girl has huge brown eyes that emphasize innocence (_what a mockery_) and long hair pulled into a haphazard bun, bangs falling down either side of her face; Sora can't tell what color in the dim light, but it doesn't seem to be black like nearly all of the women he's ever met. She looks a little familiar, but Sora can't tell how and he quickly shakes that feeling off. _Just another prostitute._

Though Sora wouldn't have minded at all if the girl had chosen to be silent, instead she chooses to speak, looking at him curiously. "Are you from around here?"

Sora stiffens. "Yes," he answers in a brittle tone of voice. _I have nothing against you personally but all the same, please stop talking to me._

The girl frowns and tilts her head; wisps of not particularly clean hair fall like a caul over her face. "You don't seem to like it here very much."

"There's nothing here that I miss," Sora replies shortly. His lip twitches. "Well, I did have a sister…"

And she is the only thing Sora has ever missed or will ever miss. _Why did I ever leave her behind? _

Once, Sora tried to look for Orihime. It was two years after he left. He still tries not to think about that trip or even remember that he came, and for one simple reason: the sight of the old apartment building burnt to the ground.

"If it helps, I had a brother," the girl half-whispers, looking at her hands perched on her knees in an almost lady-like position. _Careful Sora; this is _no _lady. _"He's gone now."

The bus comes, and fifteen minutes later Sora has put the girl from his mind. She's just another artifact of a world he hates.


	293. Clumsy Heart

**Title**: Clumsy Heart**  
Characters**: Orihime, Ishida**  
Summary**: "I never said it was a bad thing."**  
Pairings**: IshiHime**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Romance, Friendship**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: no timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 210**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

"You have a clumsy heart."

Orihime has always been a good judge of people and exceptionally talented at knowing their mindsets and emotions. Some find it welcome—they barely have to talk to Orihime for her to know them intimately. Some are uncomfortable, those who don't want others to know them in particular. Others are downright unnerved, and it's no question why.

Though she will never know why, almost all people are like glass to her. Orihime can look at them, watch them for a few minutes and she knows. She just knows.

Ishida tends to do either one of two things: stumble over his words or use them as a diversion to take immediate attention off of himself. Orihime doesn't think he's used words for speaking once in his life.

He opens his mouth to respond to this and, as ever, Ishida is lost for words when someone makes an observation that goes straight to the core of him. There's a perplexed frown and a jerk of the shoulders as though he's about to walk away.

Orihime cuts him off with a hand to his cool, dry cheek and a gentle smile. "I never said it was a bad thing."

Surprise of surprises, Ishida relaxes a little at this.


	294. It's Nothing

**Title**: It's Nothing**  
Characters**: Sora**  
Summary**: There was something about her.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: T**  
Genres**: General**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers; AU**  
Timeline**: no timeline needed; AU**  
Author's Note**: To **Kuchiki-san urahara**: this isn't exactly what you asked for, but here you go anyway. Just so you guys know, this is a continuation of _Artifact of a World He Hates_. Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **Kuchiki-san urahara**.**  
Word Count**: 282**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Having collapsed on a creaky little bed in a cheap motel, Sora tries to find a comfortable position on the sagging mattress; it's late, the meeting's been a success and all Sora really wants to do right now is sleep.

He can't. There something in the mattress, maybe a loose box spring, that's digging into his back, and no matter where he moves it's still digging into the small of his back. The sheets are thick and scratchy (Sora ends up throwing them off and lying without them) and the pillows are awful too, thin as paper.

_Well I knew this place was cheap._

Even if Sora could find a comfortable position on this bed, even if he was a sound sleeper (which he's not), Sora doesn't think he could sleep. Not if he wanted to.

There's something nagging at the back of his mind and he doesn't know what it is at first. It's like having a rock in his shoe; it's not a huge annoyance but it's something that Sora can't stop thinking about.

Eventually, his mind comes to the prostitute who'd sat on the bus stop beside him (Sora can't stop thinking of her as "the prostitute"; he knows it's not entirely right but he won't change his thinking). Something about her…

Something about her keeps making Sora's mind come back to her. Maybe it's her smile, maybe her eyes, maybe the way that voice shook up and down.

Maybe.

Sora snorts and rolls over, punching his pillows and stacking them one on top of the other; maybe this will be more comfortable. _I must be losing my mind._

It's nothing, he tells himself, and goes back to sleep.


	295. And Die

**Title**: …And Die**  
Characters**: Shinji, Yamamoto**  
Summary**: Yamamoto is unsurprised by Shinji's shikai.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Rating**: K**  
Genres**: General, Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Dedication**: Dedicated to **MyPenIsSharperThanYourSword**.**  
Word Count**: 164**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

When Yamamoto finds out exactly what Shinji's shikai is, he can't say he's surprised. Really, it does fit the boy's personality so very well. Of _course_ he would have the shikai that induces vertigo.

_A shikai that reverses everything it affects, not only in the effect of producing a mirror image but turning it upside down as well. _Yamamoto frowns. _The boy's zanpakuto seems to think much the same way he does._

It's not bad, all things considered. A shikai that can easily disorient the enemy is a huge asset in battle, one that Shinji will no doubt use to his advantage, knowing him. That Shinji's gotten this far despite his, ahem, _attitudes_ towards work and effort is enough to garner the (admittedly grudging) respect of the soutaicho.

However, Yamamoto's message to Shinji remains the same:

_Use that shikai on me and die._

Yamamoto likes to believe that it was his imagination that made him see a momentary expression of disappointment on Shinji's face.


	296. The Glasses Come Off

**Title**: The Glasses Come Off**  
Characters**: Isshin, Ryuuken, Sayuri**  
Summary**: Intimidating things shouldn't involve a teenager taking his glasses off.**  
Pairings**: implied Ryuuken x Sayuri**  
Rating**: K+**  
Genres**: General, Humor**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: no spoilers**  
Timeline**: pre-manga**  
Author's Note**: Requests are open and feedback is appreciated.**  
Word Count**: 431**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

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There's little that Kurosaki Isshin can honestly say intimidates him. Among these things are the specter of Yamamoto's bankai and Unohana's unholy wrath. These are things that are supposed to frighten, well… _everyone. _Other things, like the thought of taking on Zaraki Kenpachi or an army of Menos doesn't even register on Isshin's radar; frankly he'd welcome something like that.

Of course, it's been a long time since Isshin took an extended trip into the human world, so he supposes there are new things here now that are capable of intimidating him.

However, by all rights and the grace of God "new things" should not involve an eighteen-year-old boy taking his glasses off.

Okay, Ishida Ryuuken is a chilly kid. He can make the temperature drop in a room just by entering it; he's got a glare on him that could seriously rival Unohana's for the title of most frightening glare ever and when he's angry his face looks like it's cast in ice. The kid's cold as winter during the Ice Age, but that's just it, he's just a _kid_. Over in Soul Society Isshin's met toddlers older than him. Ryuuken is not supposed to be this scary.

That's not even the worst part. It's when Ryuuken takes off his glasses that Isshin really knows he's in trouble.

And… He's doing it right now. _Great._

In his defense, Isshin hadn't thought his unwilling host would be back for a few hours yet, and the neighbor in the apartment next door had really wanted to see what Isshin would look like in that fruit hat.

Ryuuken's standing in the hallway in front of him, Sayuri hanging close behind; the latter has her eyebrows raised. Even though Ryuuken denies every time he asks it Isshin's sure there's something going on between them, he's just sure of it; Sayuri's over too often and Ryuuken's so obviously lovesick it's pathetic. Isshin has radar for things like besotted teenagers.

Ryuuken says nothing; his mouth is slightly open. Then, slowly, he reaches up and pulls his glasses down off the bridge of his nose.

Even without asking Isshin knows that look. It's the "I am going to take my glasses off and when I put them back on you had better not still be doing what you were doing before I took them off" look. It's a look Ryuuken seems to have mastered, as he squints at Isshin and shakes his head incredulously.

Isshin takes the hint and gets rid of the fruit hat as quick as he can.

These things just aren't worth it sometimes.


End file.
